“Emily Dickinson , in my opinion, is the perfect (although admittedly slightly cliche) poet for lonely fat girls.” LonelyEmily DickinsonArtichokeFat Girls Book:Artichoke's Heart Source: Artichoke's Heart
“How did your mother die?” asked Delk. “Car accident,” Katie replied, gazing out over the water. “She’d been to mass. A tire blew on the way home, and she was gone. I was nineteen, Pather’s age, when it happened. My brother was only eleven.” She paused. “I do know what you’re going through.” Katie looked at her. “Pather told you?” Katie nodded. Delk was glad Pather had told his sister; she was relieved not to have to tell the story again. “Does it ever . . . you know . . . get any better?” Katie shrugged her narrow shoulders and smiled. “In some ways it does, but it’s a bit like running a long race with a rock in your shoe. You get used to it, but it always hurts a little.” DeathMotherFamilyKatieDelkWhen Irish Guys Are Smiling Book:When Irish Guys Are Smiling Source: When Irish Guys Are Smiling
“For a while children live under their mother’s skin. Then one day in the future, the mother lives under the child’s.” PaigeDelkWhen Irish Guys Are Smiling Book:When Irish Guys Are Smiling Source: When Irish Guys Are Smiling