“At the same moment a cold chill traced a finger down the middle of my back. Sometimes things come back to you, that s all. Sometimes they come back.”
“Can anyone actually find a replacement for a lost loved one? Isn t there a difference between things and human beings?”
“It wasn t a rock. It was a dog s rubber bone, left behind months ago to be buried first under autumn leaves, then winter snow. Just an old rubber bone, but Batty was already braced for what she knew would come—the rushing in her ears, the stab in her stomach, and the seeping away of the colors from her world. The soft blue spring sky, the yellow forsythia hedge, even Ben s bright red hair—all dulled, all gray and wretched.”
“It was possible, I found, to both mourn a loss and yet be grateful it happened.”
“She can feel her vanished talent like a phantom limb, the empty ache of its subtraction from the short list of her assets, and she knows with spiteful certainty that it is gone for good.”
“I had often said that I would write, the wives of geniuses I have sat with. I have sat with so many. I have sat with wives who were not wives, of geniuses who were real geniuses. I have sat with real wives of geniuses who were not real geniuses. In short, I have sat very often and very long with many wives and wives of many geniuses. Gertrude Stein wrote this in the voice of her partner, Alice B. Toklas, Stein being apparently the genius, Alice apparently the wife. I am nothing, Alice said after Gertrude dies, but a memory of her. ...the flashing blues and red made him look ill, then well, then ill again...”
“I was terrified that tomorrow the truth would start.”
“My boys. I don t have them to hold. What do I do with my arms?”
“I read obituaries every day to learn what sorts of lives are available to us, to see an entire life compressed into a few column inches, to fit the whole story in my eye at once.”
“To be honest about it, I didn’t even always like Sharley. Maybe that’s the way it is with friends. Maybe the liking isn’t the most essential part of being friends. Maybe it’s the sticking by. Maybe it’s the impression of yourself you get through your friend’s eyes. Or maybe it’s all the little lessons you learn.”
“I ve decided. The next time I cry, it ll be for someone special , and it ll definitely be tears of happiness.”
“Forse si vive una vita a metà, quando si perde la persona che si ama. Forse l’amore ti entra dentro così a fondo da diventare parte di te, non meno di una gamba o di un braccio o di un organo. Forse persino di più, perché diventa parte della tua anima, e quando una parte della tua anima muore non puoi asportarla, toglierla o strapparla via, se ne resta semplicemente lì, dove tu non puoi fare a meno di vederla.”
“There is no loss in life.”
“The only loss is the love did not express.”
“This is probably going to be one wound that can never be healed.”
“I m going to move on, while carrying these feelings with me.”
“If you lose something, do not worry.”