Dot Hutchison Quotes

Unless the Gardener was visiting you, darkness in the Garden was the closest we got to truth.

But why am I sad?"
"Because doors close, and we can still miss what was on the other side even if we choose to walk away.

What wasn't known was created, what wasn't created eventually ceased to matter.

Love makes us liars and we call it protection.

Well, pregnant, I guess. Being too pregnant is a bit like being too dead; it's not really a flexible state.

Sometimes love is naming the faults so they can't be forgotten.

You really think broken children care about justice?" "Wouldn't you?" "Never really did, no. Justice is a faulty thing at the best of times, and it doesn't actually fix anything." "Would you say that if you'd gotten justice as a child?" That not-quite-smile, bitter and gone too fast. "And what would I have needed justice for?" "My life's work, and you think I won't recognize a broken child when she sits in front of me?

Get away from me, you sick fuck!"
"I'm not the one who kidnapped you, so save it. Either you want the water and aspirin or you can eat shit and die, your choice."
Lyonette groaned. "Maya.

Let's call me a shadow child, overlooked rather than broken. I'm the teddy bear gathering dust bunnies under the bed, not the one-legged soldier.

Some people stay broken. Some pick up the pieces and put them back together with all the sharp edges showing.

I am a living wound upon the soul.

You seem to have this strange image of me as a lost child, like I've just been thrown on the side of the road like garbage or roadkill. But kids like me, we're not lost; we may be the only ones who never are.

And promises, once made, must be kept, and if later you regret them, you should have been more careful in making them.

There is very little uglier than plowed snow. The roads are clear, though, and all the sidewalks are tinted blue from the salt. It feels like walking over the remnants of a Smurf slaughter.

The boys progress and advance, and the girls cling to a time that was never ours.

At night the Garden was a place of shadows and moonlight, where you could more clearly hear all the illusions that went into making it what it was.

but sometimes you just need that visceral affirmation that the people you love are all right, that they're just there in front of you. Close enough to touch.

Some people stay broken, others put themselves back together with all the sharp bits showing? He'd

What I've finally begun to understand is that madness allows for an appalling honesty.

Seeing your own demons reflected back at you, it creates a safe place to just be wounded. It gives permission, in a way, to not be okay. You go to your brothers (and sisters) and not only will they watch over you when you are clearly incapable of doing so yourself, they will never tell you to be anything other than what you are, even if on that particular day what you are is a collapsing wreck of a human being. "Maybe,

The carousel's over now," he tells her quietly. "This time your family is waiting for you.

I took my pills, but the pills are like words, they don't always mean anything even when they should.

When the day came for me to leave, I sat on my front step with three suitcases, two boxes, and a teddy bear, the grand total of everything I owned. Neither of my parents was home.

How do you put yourself back together when the pieces permanently lost are the only reasons anyone's looking at you?

Scars fade. They don't disappear. It isn't right. We live with the memories; why do we have to live with the scars as well?

Dane and Horatio are the only ones who respect my decisions, who give me the space to make them, even if I never say what they are. They don't make them for me and simply assume that I'll obey, that I'll follow along with no will and no mind as I so often do.

The techs tell him the girl on the other side of the glass hasn't said a word since they brought her in. It doesn't surprise him at first, not with the traumas she's been through, but watching her now from behind the one-way mirror, he starts

It isn't impossible to heal from that, but it leaves scars. It changes the way you look at people, how far you can trust or let people in. It changes your habits, even your desires and dreams. It changes who you are, and no matter how much you struggle back toward that place, that person you started as, you never actually get there. Some change is irreversible.

A promise is a rope around the neck.

What choice are you making, Desmond?"
"I don't think I'm making any choice right now."
"Then you're automatically making the wrong ones." He straightened, mouth open to protest, but I held up my hand. "Not making a choice is a choice. Neutrality is a concept, not a fact. No one actually gets to live their lives that way.

When silence is a living thing, it can be a friend, sometimes even a comfort.

I'm not sure I know how to recognize a good thing anymore.

Sadness and grief aren't the same thing. It's why they have different words. Maybe it's a subtle distinction, but we don't keep a word in a language if it doesn't still have a purpose of its own. Synonyms are never exact things.

There is nothing resting about that bitch face.