That's how life goes on - protected by the silence that anesthetizes shame.
M.L. StedmanWhen it comes to their kids, parents are all just instinct and hope. And fear.
M.L. StedmanTag: p-276
Sometimes it's good to leave the past in the past.
M.L. StedmanOr I can forgive and forget...Oh, but my treasure, it is so much less exhausting. You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day. You have to keep remembering all the bad things...we always have a choice.
M.L. StedmanIt is so much less exhausting. You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day. You have to keep remembering all the bad things ... I would have to make a list, a very, very long list and make sure I hated the people on it the right amount ... No ... we always have a choice. All of us.
M.L. StedmanTag: happiness hate forgiveness choices burdens p-323
Very slowly, he turned a full circle, taking in the nothingness of it all. It seemed his lungs could never be large enough to breathe in this much air, his eyes could never see this much space, nor could he near the full extent of the rolling, roaring ocean. For the briefest moment, he had no edges.
M.L. StedmanRight and wrong can be like bloody snakes: so tangled up that you can't tell which is which until you've shot 'em both, and then it's too late.
M.L. StedmanSometimes, you're the one who strikes it lucky. Sometimes, it's the other poor bastard who's left with the short straw, and you just have to shut up and get on with it.
M.L. StedmanTag: life moving-on irony lucky unlucky
Tom isn't one of the men whose legs trailed by a hank of sinews, or whose guts cascaded from their casing like slithering eels. Nor were his lungs turned to glue or his brains to stodge by the gas. But he's scarred all the same having to live in the same skin as the man who did the things that needed to be done back then. He carries that other shadow, which is cast inward.
M.L. StedmanYears bleach away the sense of things until all that's left is a bone-white past, stripped of feeling and significance.
M.L. StedmanTag: time
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