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Quote by Jill Shalvis

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Lost and Found Sisters

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Jill Shalvis
Jill Shalvis

Jill Shalvis is an American best-selling author known for her romance novels. Born in 1963, she began writing in 1999 and has published numerous works. Shalvis's books are appreciated for their light-hearted style and emotional depth. more

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“Ich bin kein kleiner, pulsierender Punkt inmitten einer Kraterlandschaft, ich bin keine Wölbung, trete nicht von innen beherzt gegen eine Bauchdecke oder spiele in Ermangelung anderer Beschäftigungen mit der Nabelschnur herum, um schon einmal die Langeweile zu üben. Ich sorge ja noch nicht einmal für morgendliche Übelkeit. Dabei würde ich nichts lieber wollen, als so wunderbar wahllos und ausgeliefert vor mich hinzuwachsen. Dann hätte ich neun Monate Zeit, um mich auf alles vorzubereiten. Ich könnte mir zum Beispiel in Ruhe überlegen, was wohl mein erstes Wort sein soll, damit mir nicht im entscheidenden Moment doch nur wieder "Mama" oder "Ball" herausrutscht, das wäre mir unangenehm, da habe ich höhere Ansprüche.”

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“During that time, I was listening to a teacher who said, “you always have to have some breakdown to have a breakthrough.” When I heard that, it made the hair on my arms stand up. It goes all the way back to birth. The baby’s not comfortable when it’s leaving it’s comfort space and it’s being pushed, through violent contractions to who knows where. So, I sorta developed that into my own saying, “birth always looks like death from the other side.”

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“Physicality’s a cage. And a liberation. The cells I’ll fill in, they’re magnificent, burgeoning with aliveness! I’m dialed into them like a station on a radio transmitting constantly. First faint and distant, but growing, amassing, volumizing the very idea of a person this body aims to harbor. Glowing like the universe, always growing. Each new cell increases my momentum, tightening the tether.”

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“And there I lie in these damned bandages for a week. And there he lies, swathed up too, like a little mummy. And never crying. But now I like raking him in my arms and looking at him. A lovely forehead, incredibly white, the eyebrows drawn very faintly in gold dust... Well, this was a funny time. (The big bowl of coffee in the morning with a pattern of red and blue flowers. I was always so thirsty.) But uneasy, uneasy... Ought a baby to be as pretty as this, as pale as this, as silent as this? The other babies yell from morning to night. Uneasy... When I complain about the bandages she says: 'I promise you that when you take them off you'll be just as you were before.' And it is true. When she takes them off there is not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And five weeks afterwards there I am, with not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And there he is, lying with a ticket tied around his wrist because he died in a hospital. And there I am looking down at him, without one line, without one wrinkle, without one crease...”

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