“Dancing is like poetry written by our bodies: our outstretched arms our words of longing.”
― Lene Fogelberg, quote from Beautiful Affliction
“In strength the body only knows itself, is full of itself, its movements, its words, but in weakness is the invisible and the whisperings.”
― Lene Fogelberg, quote from Beautiful Affliction
“She is one of these women who always carries a home with her, wherever she is.”
― Lene Fogelberg, quote from Beautiful Affliction
“He laughs again and I want to eat his laughter, be nourished by it, feel it in my blood.”
― Lene Fogelberg, quote from Beautiful Affliction
“Maybe there is an invisible world working behind our own, maybe words in the silence, maybe movements in what looks completely still. When every door is closed, maybe doors are opening that can’t be seen.”
― Lene Fogelberg, quote from Beautiful Affliction
“Sometimes you know that you are destined to die, but somehow you are given a parenthesis after the punctuation mark: more years, more time that wasn’t meant for you but still was meant for you, a bridge stretching out into the stars, a confidence built of invisible threads, a miracle.”
― Lene Fogelberg, quote from Beautiful Affliction
“Aquella noche tuve un sueño agitado. Al despertarme casi me asusté, en la madrugada, no recordé inmediatamente los hechos del día anterior y hasta que tuve plena conciencia miré con sorpresa la confusa realidad que me rodeaba. Pues no nos despertamos de golpe, sino en un complejo y paulatino proceso en que vamos reconociendo el mundo originario como quien viene de un larguísimo viaje por continentes lejanos e imprecisos, y en que después de siglos de existencia oscura hemos perdido la memoria de nuestra existencia anterior, y sólo recordamos de ella fragmentos incoherentes. Y después de un tiempo inconmensurable, la luz del día empieza tenuemente a iluminar las salidas de aquellos laberintos angustiosos y entonces corremos con ansiedad hacia el mundo diurno. Y llegamos al borde del sueño como náufragos exhaustos que logran alcanzar la playa después de una larga lucha con la tempestad. Y allí, semiinconsicnetes todavía, pero ya tranquilizándonos poco a poco, empezamos a reconocer con gratitud algunos de los atributos del mundo cotidiano, el tranquilo y confortable universo de la civilización.”
― Ernesto Sabato, quote from On Heroes and Tombs
“There is much in this world that hurts us, but if we let pain become our master, we live our lives as slaves.”
― Hannah Hart, quote from Buffering: Unshared Tales of a Life Fully Loaded
“When everything was beautiful and nothing hurt...”
― Kurt Vonnegut, quote from Slaughterhouse-five: The Children's Crusade, A Duty-dance with Death
“Fortune-telling was quantum betting, a competitive scrying of variably likely outcomes.”
― China Miéville, quote from Kraken
“Kristin comes down the stairs, and the pressure on my chest snaps. I take a moment to turn away, inhaling deeply, blinking away tears. She sets the plate on a table behind the couch, and half tiptoes back up the stairs.
Thank god. I don’t think I could have handled maternal attention right this second. My body feels like it’s on a hair trigger.
I need to get it together. This is why people avoid me. Someone asks if I want a drink and I have a panic attack.
“You’re okay.” Declan is beside me, and his voice is low and soft, the way it was in the foyer. He’s so hard all the time, and that softness takes me by surprise. I blink up at him.
“You’re okay,” he says again.
I like that, how he’s so sure. Not Are you okay? No question about it.
You’re okay.
He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “But if you’re going to lose it, this is a pretty safe place to fall apart.” He takes two cookies from the plate, then holds one out to me. “Here. Eat your feelings.”
I’m about to turn him down, but then I look at the cookie. I was expecting something basic, like sugar or chocolate chip. This looks like a miniature pie, and sugar glistens across the top. “What . . . is that?”
“Pecan pie cookies,” says Rev. He’s taken about five of them, and I think he might have shoved two in his mouth at once. “I could live on them for days.”
I take the one Declan offered and nibble a bit from the side. It is awesome.
I peer up at him sideways. “How did you know?”
He hesitates, but he doesn’t ask me what I mean. “I know the signs.”
“I’m going to get some sodas,” Rev says slowly, deliberately. “I’m going to bring you one. Blink once if that’s okay.”
I smile, but it feels watery around the edges. He’s teasing me, but it’s gentle teasing. Friendly. I blink once.
This is okay. I’m okay. Declan was right.
“Take it out on the punching bag,” calls Rev. “That’s what I do.”
My eyes go wide. “Really?”
“Do whatever you want,” says Declan. “As soon as we do anything meaningful, the baby will wake up.”
Rev returns with three sodas. “We’re doing something meaningful right now.”
“We are?” I say.
He meets my eyes. “Every moment is meaningful.”
The words could be cheesy—should be cheesy, in fact—but he says them with enough weight that I know he means them. I think of The Dark and all our talk of paths and loss and guilt.
Declan sighs and pops the cap on his soda. “This is where Rev starts to freak people out.”
“No,” I say, feeling like this afternoon could not be more surreal. Something about Rev’s statement steals some of my earlier guilt, to think that being here could carry as much weight as paying respects to my mother. I wish I knew how to tell whether this is a path I’m supposed to be on. “No, I like it. Can I really punch the bag?”
Rev shrugs and takes a sip of his soda. “It’s either that or we can break out the Play-Doh”
― Brigid Kemmerer, quote from Letters to the Lost
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