Kimberly McCreight Famous Quotes
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Articles about things weren't the same thing as stories I'd made up. Those I wasn't ready for the world to pick apart, not yet.
Happy was my adopted country, not my native land. I was still bracing to be expelled without warning.
Sometimes, it feels like he's trying to rebuild our lives out of matchsticks. And I do love him for that. But loving someone isn't the same thing as understanding them.
Not everything about where you're headed ... has to be about where you've been.
Simple, Kate wanted to say. I'm already dead.
Instead, she'd pressed her lips together so hard it made her eyes water as she'd grabbed her prescriptions. The ones her therapist had assured her would help with the nausea and the insomnia. In reality, they'd nothing except make her feel as if she were underwater. Kate kept taking them in the hope she might eventually drown.
Clothes were to Sylvia what books were to me: the only thing that really mattered.
feelings existed in only one form: magnified.
Unlike a lot of couples, we didn't pretend to be perfect. We were honest about our flaws, and truthful was so much better than perfect.
It was too late to change anything. Too late to make different choices. To be a better mother than she had been. Kate could only be the mother that she was, Amelia's mother - the curator of her memory, the keeper of her secrets, the cherisher of her heart. That, she would always be.
Because there are 176 definitions for the word loser on urbandictionary.com.
Don't Be a Statistic.
[T]here's a fine line between wild and full-on whack job.
Let go or be dragged.
Simple" Kate had wanted to say, "I'm already dead.
We're teenagers," Sylvia said. "we're all depressed.
Barbara had stopped by the PTA office to talk to some of the mothers there, and she may have said a thing or two about Rhea in angen And she /na! not have been careful about who was around listening. Had it been one of Rheas fellow teachers? Or, God forbid, Rhea herself?
But the tour did remind me that my life had been bigger than just that one moment. One girl. One set of words on paper. That I had gone through other things before-good and terrible, funny and awful-and I had survived.
That woman could raise her children in whatever substandard fashion she saw fit, but how dare she let the consequences of her casual neglect injure someone else's.
One of the things that was great about my mom, as a mom, was that she always knew when she was being kind of ridiculous.
And as much as Justin valued the clarity of my black and white, I'd been intoxicated by his world of grays.
This was what happened when you spent months locked away from the world: you regressed.
It was sad that she couldn't remember more. That was the problem with closing off so much of her past - sometimes the good memories went with the bad.
It's so simple at the beginning. You meet someone gorgeous and smart and funny. Somebody who's better than you - you both know it, at least on some level. You fall in love with them. But you fall even more in love with their idea of you. You feel lucky. Because you are lucky. Then time passes. You both change too much. You stay too much the same. The truth worms its way out, and the horizon grows dark. Eventually all you're left with is somebody who sees you for who you really are. And sooner or later, they hold up a mirror and you're forced to see for yourself.
What is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil,