Alice Sebold
Alice Sebold
Alice Seboldis an American writer. She has published three books: Lucky, The Lovely Bones, and The Almost Moon...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionMemoirist
Date of Birth6 September 1963
CityMadison, WI
CountryUnited States of America
grief parent trying
She sat in her room on the couch my parents had given up on and worked on hardening herself. Take deep breaths and hold them. Try to stay still for longer and longer periods of time. Make yourself small and like a stone. Curl the edges of yourself up and fold them under where no one can see. ~pg 29, Susie's sister Lindsey dealing with grief.
book thinking trying
Books and novels in particular that grapple with quite a few things are difficult to explain, so I think that first line can come in a substitute for trying to form a longer sense of what the book is about.
beautiful smart trying
I was trying to prove to them and to myself that I was still who I had always been. I was beautiful, if fat. I was smart, if loud. I was good, if ruined.
joys understanding
To me, the idea of heaven would give you certain pleasures, certain joys - but it's very important to have an intellectual understanding of why you want those things.
comics mostly
I went to church irregularly and was mostly reading comics in the pew.
dynamic hard relationship work
We all work hard to understand the dynamic relationship we have with a parent.
men mark left
I left my mark on that man.
mother ocean eye
His love for my mother wasn't about looking back and loving something that would never change. It was about loving my mother for everything -- for her brokenness and her fleeing, for her being there right then in that moment before the sun rose and the hospital staff came in. It was about touching that hair with the side of his fingertip, and knowing yet plumbing fearlessly the depths of her ocean eyes.
lying hands two
I live in a world where two truths coexist: where both hell and hope lie in the palm of my hand
spiritual crap
In my 20s, I railed against anything 'spiritual', I thought it was all crap,
sex wall blood
At fourteen, my sister sailed away from me into a place I’d never been. In the walls of my sex there was horror and blood, in the walls of hers there were windows.
coffee dark people
The stains could be seen only in the sunlight, so Ruth was never really aware of them until later, when she would stop at an outdoor cafe for a cup of coffee, and look down at her skirt and see the dark traces of spilled vodka or whiskey. The alcohol had the effect of making the black cloth blacker. This amused her; she had noted in her journal: 'booze affects material as it does people'.
oil bags stains
As she brought prospective buyers through, the realtor said it was an oil stain, but it was me, seeping out of the bag.
father ocean eye
Hey, Ocean Eyes,” my father said. “Where’d you go on us?