I was agitated something fierce.
Jennifer DonnellyI could almost hear the characters inside, murmuring and jostling, impatient for me to open the cover and let them out.
Jennifer DonnellyMots clés reading books fiction
They sat quietly together for a few minutes, Joe holding Fiona's hand, Fiona sniffling. No flowery words, no platitudes passed between them. Joe would have done anything to ease her suffering, but he knew nothing he might do, or say, could. Her grief would run its course, like a fever, and release her when it was spent. He would not shush her or tell her it was God's will and that her da was better off. That was rubbish and they both knew it. When something hurt as bad as this, you had to let it hurt. There were no shortcuts.
Jennifer DonnellyMots clés death sorrow death-and-dying unhappiness death-of-a-loved-one
It is hope, not despair, that undoes us all.
Jennifer DonnellyNamaste. It was a Nepalese greeting. It meant: The light within me bows to the light within you.
Jennifer DonnellyMots clés light namaste nepalese-greeting
Only the Hopeless love God.
Because God may love us, but the devil takes an interest.
Maybe his quietness masked a great and boiling soul.
Jennifer DonnellyIndia said, 'But Mrs. Moskowitz, it just won't work. I still have to find a proper salaried position. I have to cover my expenses. Pay my rent.'
'You will stay with us.'
'Thank you. Truly. But it would be impossible.'
Mrs. Moskowitz reached across the table. She covered India's hand with her own. 'With all respect, my dear India,' she said, 'I look to God to tell me what is possible. Not to you.
It was an amazing feeling, to succeed at something. It was a new feeling for her -- part happiness, part pride -- and she relished it.
Jennifer DonnellyMots clés success succeeding succeed
The rain comes down harder as I write. It sheets off the roof in torrents. I wish it would pound against me. Pound the life from my body. The flesh from my bones. The pain from my heart.
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