Snake-Eater

It was a small kindness you did,” they said. “But you and I are both small creatures

Selena believed, with every fiber of her being, that a person’s worth was not defined by how hard they worked or how productive they managed to be. She also believed just as strongly that this did not apply to her.

C’mon, Padre, didn’t the Lord promise something about floods?” “He promised not to destroy the world. Individuals are still expected to get to high ground.

Fortunately, some things stay true whether we believe in them or not.

Finally one of my teachers took me aside and said: ‘Manuel, you are not God. You aren’t omnipotent. Wanting to help is good, but this belief that you, personaly, have so much power to affect the universe is starting to border on personal idolatry.’” He snorted. “He wasn’t wrong.” “Did that help?” Selena asked. “Not really, but at least then I felt guilty about feeling guilty, which is very catholic.

Copper gazed at her soulfully and attempted to convey that she had never been petted, not once, but would like to experience it.

This is what comes of reading The Clan of the Cave Bear at a formative age.

It was terrible wine,” said Grandma with dignity, “so I felt obliged to save the rest of you.

She thought of going online and seeing ... what? All the news of world events that she couldn't change, celebrities whose names she couldn't remember. Sorry,>/i> she told the world silently. I can barely manage to take care of myself wight now. Maybe later.

In her head, she tried out saying, "Meep meep, motherfucker," and possibly that would be amazing and possibly it would be incredibly silly and since she couldn't decide, she said nothing at all and pulled the trigger instead.

I like you. I don’t like who you turn into when he’s in the room.

Dunno,” she said finally. “It’s like telling apart people, I guess. You might not recognize someone after the first time, but the third or fourth or tenth time, you know who they are. It’s the same with plants. You just have to get good at looking at them.

He wasn’t all bad,” she said, feeling guilty. Walter had gotten her away from her mother. It was just that there had been nobody left after that to get her away from Walter. “Hardly anybody is,” said Grandma Billy. “He didn’t hit me or anything.” “That’s a damn low bar to clear.

And you know, there’s that point where you’re like, ‘I love you, but you’re loading the dishwasher wrong’?” “Twenty-seven years with Billy,” said Grandma, snorting. “Twenty-seven years, and every damn dish had to soak for three days. Not that we had a dishwasher, but he’d leave things in the sink.” She glared at her mojito. “I miss him something fierce, even now, but by god, my sink is clean.

Some things are attracted to sadness,” said Grandma. “And you came in here a nervous wreck

[T]hinking that the only way to be friends is fucking. Although that's a lot of men's problem, not just his.

You believe there are monsters?” she asked. “Like—really?” “Of course,” said Father Aguirre. “There have always been monsters. The ones in the desert are a bit more straightforward than the ones in men, that's all.” "And fewer people complain if you shoot them," said Grandma Billy.

She chooses to fight for you in her own way,” a voice said in her ear. “Would you ask strangers to fight for you, but deny your friends?” “I don’t want her to get hurt. I don’t want any of them to get hurt!” “Would you bear her hurts if you could?” “Yes, of course!” A soft, maternal chuckle. “Then grant her the same thing. You cannot stop others from loving you, you know, or from being noble about it.

Infinite and unending love to my husband

Once or twice, the thought came to her that there was something she was supposed to be doing, someone she was supposed to be concerned about, but it faded quickly. There was no one else to worry about. There might be no one else living in the entire world. Strangely this did not concern her. The purpose of the world was to be walked through, and she was the one who did that. There was no need for anyone else.

No. I’m broken, but I’m not useless.

But she couldn’t say that. If somebody asked if you were okay, you said you were fine. That was the script. That was always the script. If she had been in a car accident and they’d cut her arm off with the Jaws of Life, she still would have said, “I’m fine.

It was the simple kind of crazy, though, the can’t-cope-anymore crazy, the kind that has you bursting into tears at small setbacks and contemplating your own mortality with sneaking relief. You could fake your way through life with that kind of crazy.

You believe there are monsters?” she asked. “Like—really?” “Of course,” said Father Aguirre. “There have always been monsters. The ones in the desert are a bit more straightforward than the ones in men

her place was to give and give until there was nothing left of her at all.