Stephen White Quotes

Batterers aren't renowned for taking responsibility for their abusiveness, Sam. They tend to shed blame like a snake molts.

Some people," a valued supervisor had reassured me once as I bemoaned my lack of success with a patient during my training, "are better at being crazy than you are at being therapeutic.

I can't give you what you want right now. Yes, your kindness scares me. Yes, I'm safer on my own. Or at least I feel that way. But no. I really don't want you to go away. In Cabo San Lucas, you said that you were struggling with your reaction to my illness. Well, I'm struggling now. With my reaction to you. I fear that when I say I want you, you'll be gone. Running from me. Running to Merideth. Don't get this wrong: this isn't jealously, it's not that simple. this has to do with trust. In my life men can do decent things. At the end, Jake did. My boss, the DA, he has. But men can't be counted on." She paused as the tear tacked down her check, disappearing into the darkness shadowed by her hair. "I can't afford to count on them. On you.

Secrets aren't secret. They're just hidden treasures, waiting to be exploited.

I fell in love with the Mediterranean philosophy of good wine, good food and family.

I've tucked and tried to roll after that first spread-eagle spin but soon discovered the universal truth that bowling-ball-shaped objects bounce downhill much faster than do mannequin-shaped objects. In my current predicament, speed, obviously, was not my friend.

I hold the hands of people I never touch.
I provide comfort to people I never embrace.
I watch people walk into brick walls, the same ones over and over again, and I coax them to turn around and try to walk in a different direction.
People rarely see me gladly. As a rule, I catch the residue of their despair. I see people who are broken, and people who only think they are broken. I see people who have had their faces rubbed in their failures. I see weak people wanting anesthesia and strong people who wonder what they have done to make such an enemy of fate. I am often the final pit stop people take before they crawl across the finish line that is marked: I give up.
Some people beg me to help.
Some people dare me to help.
Sometimes the beggars and the dare-ers look the same. Absolutely the same. I'm supposed to know how to tell them apart.
Some people who visit me need scar tissue to cover their wounds.
Some people who visit me need their wounds opened further, explored for signs of infection and contamination. I make those calls, too.
Some days I'm invigorated by it all. Some days I'm numbed.
Always, I'm humbled by the role of helper.
And, occasionally, I'm ambushed.
~ Stephen White "Critical Conditions

I didn't ask him why, if I was doing all the Lord asked, I'd just had a heart attack and how come my wife had left me and taken my son away from me a week before Thanksgiving. Why didn't I ask the reverend? I supposed I didn't want to hear him speak about faith and about God acting in mysterious ways. And I didn't know whether or not I would have felt any better when we were done.

But my faith was weak right then, and I doubted it.

Reverend Prior must have sensed that misgivings were clouding my vision. He said, "Don't make the mistake of measuring God's love by the yardstick of your own life, Mr. Purdy."

"What else do I have?" I asked.

In Boulder, being of narrow mind was a much worse sin than appearing stupid.

Joining the church felt like joining a secret club; and you learned the rules after you joined. The first rule of the church was: Never question what it is that you have joined.

His voice carried authority the way Ben & Jerry's carries calories.