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Quote by Tessa Afshar

“People are not always good ambassadors for God. But Hulda held firm. To her last breath, she praised him. And I saw in her what I had never seen in empty religious observance. I saw the joy that comes from the presence of God." Roxannah crossed her arms over her belly. "Even when she was dying?" "Even as she lay dying. One night, toward the end, as I sat by her bed, weeping, she laid her hand on my head. 'Adin, you must be like Moses,' she said. I stopped my sniveling and stared at her in shock. She had not spoken for several days by then. 'Moses?' I stammered." Roxannah gave him a puzzled look. "He is our greatest prophet," Aden explained. "Hulda said, 'Remember how God spoke to Moses mouth to mouth? You must learn to speak to him like that.'" "What does that mean?" "In our language, speaking mouth to mouth is an expression of closeness. It means you are on intimate terms with someone. Friends who share their hearts openly. God spoke to Moses mouth to mouth. With the familiarity of a friend. Hulda wanted me to understand that true faith leads to that kind of friendship with God.”

Quote by Tessa Afshar

Book:The Queen's Cook
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The Queen's Cook

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Tessa Afshar

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New YorkNew York CityManhattanPlacesVintage StyleMetropolitan Living
Book:Here is New York
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“My hair, always pale, is now flossy white and very, very long. It is fine too, finer it seems with each passing day. It is my one vanity- Lord knows I haven't much else to be vain about. Not any more. It has been with me a long time- since 1989, this present crop. I am fortunate indeed that Sylvia is happy to brush it for me, oh so gently; to plait it, day in, day out. It is above and beyond her job description and I am very grateful. I must remember to tell her so. I missed my chance this morning, I was too excited. When Sylvia brought my juice I could barely drink it. The thread of nervous energy that had infused me all week had overnight become a knot. She helped me into a new peach dress- the one Ruth bought me for Christmas- and exchanged my slippers for the pair of outside shoes usually left to languish in my wardrobe. The leather was firm and Sylvia had to push to make them fit, but such price respectability. I am too old to learn new ways and cannot abide the tendency of the younger residents to wear their slippers out. Face paint restored some life to my cheeks, but I was careful not to let Sylvia overdo it. I am wary of looking like an undertaker's mannequin. It doesn't take much rouge to tip the balance: the rest of me is so pale, so small. With some effort I draped the gold locket around my neck, its nineteenth-century elegance incongruous against my utilitarian clothing. I straightened it, wondering at my daring, wondering what Ruth would say when she saw.”

Dressing UpWhite HairVintage Style
Book:The House at Riverton
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