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Quote by Jeanette LeBlanc

“Grief doesn't answer to the rules of good sense, she doesn’t answer to any rules at all. Grief is a willful mother fucker who takes what she wants and spits us out where she will. She will not be rushed. Refuses to be contained. The body of you can sustain blow after blow after blow and remain standing, and then the smallest of breezes will bring the whole thing down. It took me a long time to make peace with this. To make friends with the raw, keening animal edge of it all. To understand that we all carry our grief differently, that it stacks and morphs and twists and hides—and then when it is ready, it rushes in, eager to finally have its say.”

Quote by Jeanette LeBlanc

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Jeanette LeBlanc

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“I don't know how to feel or think or love. I'm a character in a novel as yet unwritten, hovering in the air and undone before I've even existed, amongst the dreams of someone who never quite managed to breathe life into me. I'm always thinking, always feeling, but my thoughts lack all reason, my emotions all feeling. I'm falling through a trapdoor, through infinite space … in a directionless, empty fall. My soul is a black maelstrom, a great madness spinning about a vacuum, the swirling of a vast ocean around a hole in the void, and in the waters, more like whirlwinds than waters, float images of all I ever saw or heard in the world: houses, faces, books, boxes, snatches of music and fragments of voices, all caught up in a sinister, bottomless whirlpool. And I, myself, am the centre that exists only because the geometry of the abyss demands it; I am the nothing around which all this spins, I exist so that it can spin, I am a centre that exists only because every circle has one.”

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