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Charlotte McConaghy Quotes

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“What a strange thing that grief can become need in moments, in breaths, in the strength of his hands. Maybe it’s shelter. Maybe distraction. Or something else entirely. But there is old pain in me and we kiss as though we have kissed a thousand times before, as though in other lives we kissed every day, we kiss as though we have been waiting years to do so.”

“Det handlar om lugn. Detta har hon lärt sig under många år i vatten och det är något hon är bra på, en färdighet hon har finslipat. Det började eftersom hon inte ville lämna sälarna under ytan - hon ville att hennes kropp skulle klara mer, vara mer som deras, så hon arbetade med den. Hon lärde sig göra sina utandningar längre än inandningarna för att sänka hjärtfrekvensen. Hon lärde sig minska sin syreförbrukning. Hon lärde sig uthärda trycket som övergår i smärta, hon förstår att smärta inte är någonting att frukta. Hon är väldigt bra på lugn. Förutom, förstås, när det gäller hennes pappa.”

“I was not meant to have to do this part alone. The teenage part. I was changing her nappies yesterday, and today I am grappling with the reflection of my failures in her too-wise eyes. I am trying to allow her to grow while simultaneously keeping her from drifting away. I want her to know life, its beauties and its complexities, I want her to take risks and make mistakes and know love as we all should, and yet those things feel too big, they are dwarfing us, she is just a baby and I really need my wife.”

“I met a boy and he told me a story. There was a lady long ago who spent her life coughing up feathers. And one day when she was gnarled and gray, she stretched from a woman into a black bird. From then on dusk held her in its thrall and night's great yawning mouth swallowed her whole. He told me this and then the boy kissed me with vinegar lips from the chips he was eating and I decided that this was my favorite story of all. That I wanted to be a bird when I was gray. ... After that, how could I not run away with him.”

“It’s not a good idea to fall in love, okay?” I say softly. “Not with people, and not with places.” Fen looks surprised by this. “I loved a landscape and watched it burn,” I say. “This island, you can see what it will look like, there’s a film over everything. You can see it disappearing. There’s no stable ground. Not here. Not anywhere else.” “And you’d want to try and survive all of that on your own?” she asks. “What that instability does to relationships—what constant danger does to them—is devastating. It’s unraveling.” I can see she doesn’t believe me but I don’t push the point. She will see, one day. Loving a place is the same as having a child. They are both too much an act of hope, of defiance. And those are a fool’s weapons.”

“Your dad’s from a generation of men who were taught that speaking about their feelings was a weakness. Which means they didn’t really learn the skill. And it is a skill, you know. Figuring out how you feel and then articulating it. It’s not easy. But I think it’s important to try or you just…there’s too much to carry on your own, you know?”

“I think my husband loved me as a vessel. [...] He never took the time to discover my body, he never explored it for what it could offer aside from the obvious, he never found in me, in my essence, a purpose other than to carry children, and when I admitted I couldn’t do this for him he turned away from me. He had no more use for my limbs or my skin, my muscles or tongue or fingertips. He couldn’t even see me anymore.”