Quote

More and more I find myself at a loss for words and didn't want to hear other people talking either. Their conversations seemed false and empty. I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.

Paula McLain

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Paula McLain
Age: 59
Born: 1965
Born: October 7
Author
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Fresno
California
Made
Words
Sea
Never
Didn
Empty
People
Find
Conversation
Look
Loss
Nothing
Hear
Preferred
Looks
Either
Conversations
Feel
Alone
False
Feels
Talking
Seemed

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To marry was to say you believed in the future and in the past, too-that history and tradition and hope could stay knit together to hold you up.
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Dogs are easy. If their tails are up and their eyes are soft, you're in.
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But when Bumby nursed, his fist clutching the fabric of my robe, his eyes soft and bottomless and locked on mine, as if I were the very heart of his universe, I couldn't help but melt into him.
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I knew that I could hate him all I wanted for the way he was hurting me, but I couldn’t ever stop loving him, absolutely, for what he was.
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I also liked to look around at the houses surrounding the park and wonder about the people who filled them, what kinds of marriages they had and how they loved or hurt each other on any given day, and if they were happy, and whether they thought happiness was a sustainable thing.
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Not everyone out in a storm wants to be saved
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You have to digest life. You have to chew it up and love it all through.
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Nothing hurts if you don't let it.
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Happiness is so awfully complicated, but freedom isn't. You're either tied down or you're not.
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Though I often looked for one, I finally had to admit that there could be no cure for Paris.
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And sometimes I think there isn’t anything to us but our mistakes.
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There was only today to throw yourself into without thinking about tomorrow, let alone forever. To keep you from thinking, there was liquor, an ocean's worth at least, all the usual vices and plenty of rope to hang yourself with. Love is a beautiful liar.
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The way I see it, how can you really say you'll love a person longer than love lasts?
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... and yet he could also be very charming, in a bookish, infinitely apologetic way.
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I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.
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All that was left for me was a terrible kind of paralysis, this waiting game, this heartbreak game.
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Maybe happiness was an hourglass already running out, the grains tipping, sifting past each other. Maybe it was a state of mind.
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She was also incredibly confident, with a way of moving and talking that communicated that she didn't need anyone to tell her she was beautiful or worthwhile.
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Why is it every other person you meet says they're an artist? A real artist doesn't need to gas on about it, he doesn't have time. He does his work and sweats it out in silence, and no one can help him at all.
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I'd never met anyone so vibrant or alive. He moved like light.
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