Rebecca Quotes
There was something rather blousy about roses in full bloom, something shallow and raucous, like women with untidy hair
When you don't change, history repeats itself. Then you have to decide if changing is for the best, or you keep seeing repeats because you're doing something right.
See, she goes places when she reads. I know all about that. When I'm reading, wherever I am, I'm always somewhere else.
If the body is the register of the real, then reading with one's feet is real in a way reading with one's eyes alone is not.
The very air they breathed was almost a juice.
... a certain kind of wanderlust can only be assuaged by the acts of the body itself in motion, not the motion of the car, boat, or plane.
I think I like wildflowers best, " I explain. "They just grow wherever they want. No one has to plant them. And then their seeds blow in the wind and they find a new place to grow." (Richelle)
…the love we most cherish will, of necessity, bring us pain. Because that love is like the setting of a body with broken bones. But I want to stage the setting. I want to direct all scenes.
How many memories can come through at once before they are just jumbled words and faces mixed together by years of pain?
Bubble gum on a turd, Madison! You’re a tutti-frutti enforcer. I am a warden. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.
I also realized by the way he actually cared that I could hurt him, really hurt him, if I wanted to. That's a power no one should ever realize. It's toxic.
Keep all your promises, don't take what doesn't belong to you, and always look after those less fortunate than yourself, and you'll do well in the world.
when exactly do the abuses that have been tolerated for so long become intolerable? When does the fear evaporate and the rage generate action that produces joy?
She understood children, and knew that they were adults handicapped by a humiliating disguise and had their adult qualities within them.
...all I knew were novels. It gave me pause, for a moment, that all my reference points were fiction, that all my narratives were lies.
Finishing my thoughts aloud meant saying how my dad had passed, and I had failed. How I had smoked joints and lay in bed enabling my hopelessness. I’d been the ugly in my world.
His kiss was light but lingering, like smoke from shivering lips on a freezing winter morning.
You know there’s this gaping space between us, and if I leaned forward I’d grab Dex’s shirt without ever touching him. You know there’s a three-inch-thick glass wall separating us.Now we know, too.
He pries me from his chest and drops his hand from the back of my head, tracing my ear, along my jawline. He snatches his fingers a moment before they press into my lip.
You can use the power of words to bury meaning or to excavate it.
...explaining men still assume I am, in some sort of obscene impregnation metaphor, an empty vessel to be filled with their wisdom and knowledge.
Like racism, misogyny can never be adequately addressed by its victims alone.
Finding ways to appreciate advances without embracing complacency is a delicate task.
The backlash against feminism remains savage, strong, and omnipresent, but it is not winning. The world has changed profoundly, and it needs to change far more.
At my glummest, I sometimes think women get to chose- between being punished for being unsubjugated and the continual punishment of subjugation.
People call me a feminist whenever I express statements that distinguish me from a doormat.
His strength kept me moving forward, and it was also tearing me apart.
Success does not often arrive by miracle or magic but through perseverance and practice.
All you need to find a strong, loving man is the knowledge and understanding of the power you have as a woman.
No matter how rich, powerful or handsome he is, he is defenseless against your womanly power.
The self is also a creation, the principal work of your life, the crafting of which makes everyone an artist.
Possibility is not a facet of opportunity. It's one of fate. And I've never been one to fear destiny.
In the same way, teenagers imagine dying young because death is more imaginable than the person that all the decisions and burdens of adulthood may make of you.
The trouble with words is that no matter how much sense they make in theory, they can’t change what you feel inside.
Good Lord didn't mean for us to hate ourself. He made us to love ourself like He do, with wide open arms.
They used to tell me if you’re depressed anyway, why not be depressed and take a walk instead of being depressed and staying in bed? If it makes no difference, why not get up and go out?
There is nothing for you in this bleak hospital room but a cold and empty nothingness that has no answers, can give no peace, will provide no comfort to the living.