Simone St. James Quotes

It was infuriating how many people got things wrong about you when you were a teenage girl, but as she had learned to do, Katie took her anger and made it into something else.

I took my glasses off and set them to the table... The world went pleasantly blurry, and I didn´t have to see the details anymore.

Her heart was pounding in anticipation and a queer kind of excitement. She was ready. Was that the same as happy?

For a second, emotion rolled up through Fiona's throat, and she couldn't breathe. Her father had been like this, once upon a time. The man in the photo on the wall in the other room, the man on the ground in Vietnam in 1969, had been complicate and demanding and often absent, but he had been so painfully, vibrantly alive it had almost hurt to be around him. The air had crackled when he walked into a room. Malcom Sheridan had never done small talk – he was the kind of man who looked you in the eye on first meeting and said, Do you enjoy what you do? Do you find it fulfilling? If you had the courage to answer, he'd listen like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever heard. And in that moment, it always was. He was a brilliant dreamer, a relentless intellectual, and a troublemaker, but the thing that always struck you about Fiona's father was that he was truly interested in everything.

This was Roberta's favorite time. The quiet, the chill of the leftover night air, the cold seeping into her legs and her feet, waking her up. The trees around the edges of the pitch were black against the sky, and from one of them three ravens took flight, rising stark and lonely against the clouds.

Do you understand?"

I nodded, for the second time in two days sitting before a man who sat behind a desk and attempted to explain the world to me.

I" title="Simone St. James Quotes: Do you understand?"

I" width="913px" height="515px" loading="lazy"/>

What will I write in this beautiful book?
She carried the book to class for the rest of the day, and that night she put it under her pillow, still blank. She liked it blank right now, liked to know that it was waiting, listening. Just like her friends.

Only a woman can truly understand the feeling of her very favorite item of clothing.

He was very still, and turned toward me. I knew he was looking at me but I could not look back. "What is it like?" he said at last. "Seeing the dead."

An old woman walked by, huddled into a thick coat, her footsteps splashing through the reflected lamplight on the street. "Like plunging your hand into a bucket of worms in the dark," I said. "Except it's inside your mind. It's repellent, and cold, and you don't know what you're touching because you can't see - you don't know what it looks like, and you don't want to know."

"Jesus, Ellie," James said. I turned to him to find his face stark in the harsh lamplight. "Gloria did that for a living."

"So did my mother," I said.

So do I.

He'd sold his half of their house out to his ex-wife, taken the money, and invested it in the magazine while he lived in the room over his elderly mother's garage. Strangely, he was in a better mood than ever since he'd done it.

You can't imagine how hard it is to come home from hell and be expected to pick up the threads of a life. Apply for jobs, go to a factory, punch in, punch out. Put your lunch in a bag and get on the omnibus every day. Like nothing happened. Nothing.

The anger had gone as quickly as it came, and now she felt shaky and a little ashamed.

I was doomed to it. For there was no way to convince him that, with all his scars, the terrible truth was that he was still the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Sonia envied her, the way she could turn her brain off, think about absolutely nothing. It was a trick Sonia herself had never learned. That was what books did - they turned off your thinking for you, put their thoughts in your head so you wouldn't have your own.