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Quote by Tana French

“All those years of endless excruciating therapy sessions, of staying vigilant over every move and word and thought; I had been sure I was mended, all the breaks healed, all the blood washed away. I knew I had earned my way to safety. I had believed, beyond any doubt, that that meant I was safe.”

Quote by Tana French

Book:Broken Harbor
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Work

Broken Harbor

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Author

Tana French
Tana French

Tana French is an Irish crime novel author known for her distinctive narrative style and deep psychological insights. Her works, often set in Dublin, blend elements of suspense, crime, and psychological analysis, and have gained widespread popularity among readers. more

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“When's the last time Andrew saw fit to talk to you at all?" Neil asked. "Last Wednesday," Aaron reminded him. It wasn't the answer Neil expected. He'd laid the groundwork for Aaron and Andrew's therapy and it'd been weeks since Aaron first muscled his way into one of Andrew's sessions, but this was the first hint that they were actually doing something real with that time. Aaron's awful attitude that first Wednesday was the only reaction they'd ever gotten from the brothers. Neil had assumed the two were still getting nowhere fast. Triumph was a quiet, smoldering heat in his stomach.”

HealingForgivenessTriumphAndrew MinyardAaron Minyard
Book:The King's Men
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“We choose our truths the way we choose our gods, single-sightedly, single-mindedly, no other way to feel or see or think. We lock ourselves into our ways, and click all the truths to one. We put our truths together in pieces, but you use nails and I use glue. You mend with staples. I mend with screws. You stitch what I would bandage. Your truth may not look like mine, but that is not what matters. What matters is this: You can look at a scar and see hurt, or you can look at a scar and see healing. Try to understand.”

Healing
Book:A Gracious Plenty
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“The fear of death haunted me for a year. I cried whenever anyone dropped a glass or broke a picture. But even then that passed, I was left with a sadness that couldn't be rubbed off. It wasn't that something had happened. It was worse: I'd become aware of what had been with me all along without my notice. I dragged this new awareness around like a stone tied to my ankle. Wherever I went, it followed. I used to make up little sad songs in my head. I eulogized the falling leaves. I imagined my death in a hundred different ways, but the funeral was always the same: from somewhere in my imagination, out rolled a red carpet. Because after every secret death I died, my greatness was always discovered.”

Death
Book:The History of Love
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