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Quote by Rufi Thorpe

“The sadness of the day with Shyanne had left in her a deep well. She thought she could use it. Maybe she could pull the dagger out of her gut and put it into his. That was what writing was, wasn’t it?”

Quote by Rufi Thorpe

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Margo's Got Money Troubles

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Rufi Thorpe

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“All of my time, the very earliest, the latest, the most recent, all of it, every instant of it has never been totally free of sorrow. The sorrow was second nature or innate or inevitable, it was there all the time: it gave a thoughtful brooding cast to the visage. There was almost never a complaint, because complaining was in bad taste, although that did not prevent me from having definite if private opinions about people who were plainly sons of bitches. Also there at all times, side by side with the sorrow, or possibly even a part of it, was humor--an awareness of air, light, sounds, smells, and unaccountable ideas.”

“Sadness, lack of recognition, and loneliness turn into bitterness. When people believe that their identity is unrecognized, it feels like injustice—because it is. People who have been treated unjustly often lash out, seek ways to humiliate those who they feel have humiliated them. Loneliness thus leads to meanness. As the saying goes, pain that is not transformed gets transmitted.”

“And kids, despite obliviousness to many things like etiquette and social cues, are hugely in tune with sadness, especially their parents’. And what did our parents have to be sad about? Lots of things, it turned out, though it’s possible they were overly sad, which is called being maudlin. Or maybe they were sad about all the wrong things, that was possible too. They were sad about politicians and people they once knew who were dead or had changed so much they might as well have been dead, parking restrictions, library closures, and more private sadnesses that we had no access to.”

“When Bart was on the plane home from Iceland, he swore that he would never let anything bother him again. But returning home to news of his father's cancer had cut Bart out at the knees. Along with profound sadness, he feels cheated. He managed to stay alive and make it home despite untold horrors; it's not fair that Kelley is now dying. Kelley won't be around to see Bart get married or have children. He won't know if Bart makes a success of himself or not. It taps into Bart's oldest resentment: Bart's three older siblings have gotten a lot more of Kelley than Bart has. They've gotten the best of him, and Bart, the sole child from Kelley's marriage to Mitzi, has had to make do with what was left over.”

“I know what it's like to keep living after losing everything," she said softly. "It's like sinking in the Sandsea. You don't know when the end will come for if it will. And either way, it doesn't matter, because there is no reprieve. You just sink and sink..." Her breathing hitched. "Until someone pulls you out and gives you new purpose. But even then, the hole remains. You can build a new life around it, but it never fills. You continue living, but you never stop sinking.”

“Why am I so upset? Why do I care that Grace will never eat a cookie again, or that Rosemary doesn't know that? I don't even know these people. Why does it matter to me that this woman was not informed that her friend is dead? Why do I care? There are sadder things happening on this planet right now than old women dying after living long lives- Oh, but that makes it worse. Of course there are sadder things. This is a drop in the bucket. The world is full of so much sadness that it eclipses the sadness of this. That doesn't actually make this any less sad, it must means that there is so much potent sadness on earth that this becomes trivial. Everything becomes trivial. Nothing matters”

“I wanted to honor her with the music we had shared. She used to listen to me play, correct me, encourage me. She was like a teacher, but better. She was my support, and she truly loved my music. She didn’t know it, but I played for her. To make her happy. To keep her close. When the melody ended, I played it again and again until my fingers hurt so badly I could no longer continue. And in that moment I realized I would never be able to play the piano the same way again. Every note had been for her. Every sound had been about her. Now it all felt empty, suddenly stripped of meaning.”