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And after awhile of this my brain and my body and every single inch of me that was alive was flooded with the feeling that I was starving, starving for Edmond. And what a coincidence, that was the feeling I loved best in the world.

Meg Rosoff

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Meg Rosoff
Age: 68
Born: 1956
Born: October 16
Author
Novelist
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Flooded
Alive
Awhile
Brain
Inch
Feeling
Starving
Feelings
Coincidence
Body
Inches
Best
Single
Every
World
Loved

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And still the brain continues to yearn, continues to burn, foolishly, with desire. My old man's brain is mocked by a body that still longs to stretch in the sun and form a beautiful shape in someone else's gaze, to lie under a blue sky and dream of helpless, selfless love, to behold itself, illuminated, in the golden light of another's eyes.
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It was not a big smile, not particularly bold or polite or ironic or glib, not asking for anything or offering anything, not stringy or careless, not, in short, like any smile I had ever experienced before. But such a smile! You could burn a hole in the world with that smile.
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I guess there was a war going on somewhere in the world that night but it wasn't one that could touch us.
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Every war has turning points and every person too.
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This was what happiness felt like - this wondrous, miraculous alternative to dread.
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I can't even trust my own imaginary dog. How much lower can a person get?
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The imagination can be dangerous. It can change the world. And that is why we write.
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I frightened myself. I became the ghost Piper was so scared of.
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Ask any comedian, tennis player, chef. Timing is everything.
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If you haven't been in a war and are wondering how long it takes to get used to losing everything you think you need or love, I can tell you the answer is no time at all.
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It might go down better than appearing as a giant reptile encased in a ball of fire and forcing yourself on her.' 'WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO BRING THAT UP?
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I didn't seem to have that effect on anyone but it would have been a waste for both of us to be saints.
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My daughter is a fantastic travelling companion - she's totally organised, whereas I'm hopeless.
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Life is absolutely horrific, leading up to absolute horror.
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I guess the difference between Gin and me is that when Gin got shut in the barn she thought Edmond didn't love her anymore but because I could feel Edmond out there somewhere always loving me I didn't have to howl all night.
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Somewhere along the line I'd lost the will not to eat.
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When you read a book, the neurons in your brain fire overtime, deciding what the characters are wearing, how they're standing, and what it feels like the first time they kiss. No one shows you. The words make suggestions. Your brain paints the pictures.
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It's a strange sensation to live inside another person's life, to wonder all the time what he is doing, or thinking or feeling.
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