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As an adolescent, I went to charm school, where I learned to pour tea and relate to boys, which, as I recall, meant giving them the pickle jar to unscrew, whether it was too hard for me or not.

Sue Monk Kidd

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Sue Monk Kidd
Age: 76
Born: 1948
Born: August 12
Novelist
Writer
Sylvester
Georgia
Whether
Recalls
School
Tea
Unscrew
Hard
Charm
Pickle
Giving
Relate
Pickles
Meant
Adolescent
Boys
Jars
Learned
Pour
Went
Recall

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It is the peculiar nature of the world to go on spinning no matter what sort of heartbreak is happening.
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He'd gone to church for forty years and was only getting worse. It seemed like this should tell God something.
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My children have always existed at the deepest center of me, right there in the heart/hearth, but I struggled with the powerful demands of motherhood, chafing sometimes at the way they pulled me away from my separate life, not knowing how to balance them with my unwieldy need for solitude and creative expression.
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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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Probably one or two moments in your whole life you will hear a dark whispering spirit, a voice coming from the center of things. It will have blades for lips and will not stop until it speaks the one secret thing at the heart of it all. Kneeling on the floor, unable to stop shuddering, I heard it plainly. It said, You are unlovable.
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I said, If I was a Negro girl- He placed his fingers across my lips so I tasted his saltiness. We can't think of changing our skin, he said. Change the world-that's how we gotta think.
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It shocks me how I wish for...what is lost and cannot come back.
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I could even feel how perishable all my moments really were, how all my life they had come to me begging to be lived, to be cherished even.
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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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I didn't know then what I wanted, but the ache for it was palpable.
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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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Someone who thinks death is the scariest thing doesn't know a thing about life.
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I can't think of anything I'd rather have more than somebody lovin' me.
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Knowing can be a curse on a person's life. I'd traded in a pack of lies for a pack of truth, and I didn't know which one was heavier.
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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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Stopping is a spiritual art. It is the refuge where we drink life in.
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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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Sometimes I didn't even feel like getting out of bed. I took to wearing my days-of-the-week panties out of order. It could be Monday and I'd have on underwear saying Thursday. I just didn't care.
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We walked along the river with the words streaming behind us like ribbons in the night.
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So few people know what they're capable of.
Sue Monk Kidd