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Now and then sprays of rain flew over and misted our faces. Every time I refused to wipe away the wetness. It made the world seem so alive to me. I couldn't help but envy the way a good storm got everyone's attention.
Sue Monk Kidd
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Sue Monk Kidd
Age: 76
Born: 1948
Born: August 12
Novelist
Writer
Sylvester
Georgia
Every
Attention
Flew
Way
Help
Wipe
Good
Faces
Envy
Time
Everyone
Storm
World
Helping
Rain
Sprays
Away
Couldn
Wetness
Seems
Seem
Spray
Made
Alive
Refused
More quotes by Sue Monk Kidd
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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You can tell which girls lack mothers by the look of their hair.
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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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All my life I've thought I needed someone to complete me, now I know I need to belong to myself.
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I believe in the goodness of imagination.
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We have to acknowledge sometimes that this moment is enough. This place is enough. I am enough.
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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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We become what we pay attention to.
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I'd forgotten how that sort of craving felt, how it rose suddenly and loudly from the pit of my stomach like a flock of startle birds, then floated back down in the slow, beguiling way of feathers.
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the feminine journey is a story unfolding, and its epiphanies come through real things, through tangibles like walking sticks and dreams and deer antlers--all of which we might miss without taking time and space in Deep Being.
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To fashion an inner story of our pain carries us into the heart of it, which is where rebirth inevitably occurs.
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We walked along the river with the words streaming behind us like ribbons in the night.
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There's release in knowing the truth no matter how anguishing it is. You come finally to the irreducible thing, and there's nothing left to do but pick it up and hold it. Then, at last, you can enter the severe mercy of acceptance.
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Every little thing wants to be loved.
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Sunset is the saddest light there is.
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Until we look from the bottom up we have nothing.
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There is no place so AWAKE and ALIVE as the edge of becoming.
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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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Standing there, I loved myself and I hated myself. That's what the black Mary did to me, made me feel my glory and my shame at the same time.
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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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