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
forever way gone
I loved the way the burned-out flashcubes of the Kodak Instamatic marked a moment that had passed, one that would now be gone forever except for a picture.
names people way
I would do exactly what you are doing: I would talk to everyone I needed to, I would not tell too many people his name. When I was sure," she said, "I would find a quiet way, and I would kill him.
way cameras bones
I had rescued the moment by using my camera and in that way had found how to stop time and hold it. No one could take that image away from me because I owned it.
attitude way laissez-faire
I'm fine with whatever comes my way, and whatever doesn't come my way I'm fine with too. I have a very laissez-faire attitude with the whole thing.
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.