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We walked along the river with the words streaming behind us like ribbons in the night.

Sue Monk Kidd

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Sue Monk Kidd
Age: 76
Born: 1948
Born: August 12
Novelist
Writer
Sylvester
Georgia
Rivers
Behinds
Along
Behind
Words
Ribbons
Night
Streaming
Like
Walked
River

More quotes by Sue Monk Kidd

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In a weird way I must have loved my little collection of hurts and wounds. They provided me with some real nice sympathy, with the feeling I was exceptional... What a special case I was.
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That's the sacred intent of life, of God--to move us continuously toward growth, toward recovering all that is lost and orphaned within us and restoring the divine image imprinted on our soul.
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Sometimes you want to fall on your knees and thank God in heaven for all the poor news reporting that goes on in the world.
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I grew up in the American South and came of age in the 1960s, an incredibly turbulent time. It was as if the seams of American life were being ripped apart with riots and protests.
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Empathy is the most mysterious transaction that the human soul can have, and its accessible to all of us, but we have to give ourselves the opportunity to identify, to plunge ourselves in a story where we see the world from the bottom up or through anothers eyes or heart.
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Whatever else you do, listen to your Deepest Self. Love Her and be true to Her, speak Her truth, always.
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History is not just facts and events. History is also a pain in the heart and we repeat history until we are able to make another's pain in the heart our own.
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You create a path of your own by looking within yourself and listening to your soul, cultivating your own ways of experiencing the sacred and then practicing it. Practicing until you make it a song that sings you.
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I missed Rosaleen's snoring the way you'd miss the sound of the ocean waves after you've gotten used to sleeping with them. I didn't realize how it had comforted me. Quiteness has a strange, spongy hum that can nearly break your eardrums.
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It shocks me how I wish for...what is lost and cannot come back.
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Look, I know you meant well creating the world and all, but how could you let it get away from you like this? How come you couldn't stick with your original idea of paradise? People's lives were a mess.
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I found that I could not climb my way up to God in a blaze of doing and performing. Rather, I had to descend into the depths of myself and find God there in the darkness of troubled waters.
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Grandmotherhood initiated me into a world of play, where all things became fresh, alive, and honest again through my grandchildren's eyes. Mostly, it retaught me love.
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You have to know when to prod and when to be quiet, when to let things take their course.
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If you need something from somebody always give that person a way to hand it to you.
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I think many people need, even require, a narrative version of their life. I seem to be one of them. Writing memoir is, in some ways, a work of wholeness.
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Did you know there are thirty-two names for love in one of the Eskimo languages? August said. And we just have this one. We are so limited, you have to use the same word.
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Elizabeth A. Johnson explains that including divine female symbols and images not only challenges the dominance of male images but also calls into question the structure of patriarchy itself.
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I believe in the goodness of imagination.
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Stopping is a spiritual art. It is the refuge where we drink life in.
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