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Quote by Laurie Perez

“The sensuality of her grief, thawing. Her power coming into focus, still so chaotic inside her. I love the way she splurged on this hedonistic indulgence: a public cascade of tears. Not sobbing, not beaten, just allowing the ocean inside to surge and be visible, palpable, wet.”

Quote by Laurie Perez

Book:The Look of Amie Martine

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The Look of Amie Martine

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“Obituaries often referred to the people the deceased had let behind, but that wasn't accurate, William thought. He was the one who had gone ahead, no matter how hard he'd tried not to. She was the one held in place. Her words in his head now reminders, not explorations. Memories, not true conversations. And the difference between the two could break you. pg. 236”

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Book:A Manual for Victory

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“Take five pounds of hulled whole wheat. Hold it in your arms. Feel that it weighs nothing compared to the load that lays heavy on your heart. Wash the wheat, let your tears join in. Strike a match, strike up faith, light the gas, Watch the wheat bubble and boil. See steam rising like hope. Take the pot from the heat and pour the wheat through a sieve. Lay the grain on a sheet overnight to dry. Rest your head on your own sheets. Dream of a flower dying, shedding its seeds, allowing another flower to grow.”

Book:Red Ink

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“In the morning, on the day of remembrance, put the wheat in a bowl with walnuts, almonds and parsley. Add a message of devotion, a wish for the future, your gratitude to God. Sprinkle in cinnamon, not guilt. Throw in sesame seeds, throw away your fear. Turn out your mixture and create a mound - a monument to love. Brown some flour and sift. Add a layer of sugar. Press flat. Finally, crush the skin of a pomegranate with the remains of your fury and spread the seeds with love, in the shape of a cross.”

Book:Red Ink

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“No one will say it out loud. It's like saying 'Macbeth' in the theatre; it brings bad luck. Your mum died - jinx! - yours will die too now. Say it, say it out loud. The worst has already happened.”

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Book:Red Ink

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“A vast flood swamped Maria, pulling her beneath the surface of life. When the tears eventually dried, they were replaced by the soft, suffocating fog of depression. She was numb. Maria looked back on her days of rage and sorrow with a twisted sense of fondness. At least then she had felt something.”

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Book:Red Ink

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“The only way I've been able to cope is to set up house in a metaphorical white room. Keep everything simple. Color is emotion; the thing that drives me to please like an insatiable addiction, and that addiction puts me in jeopardy of compromise. Compromising for the sake of pleasing makes the intellectual in me want to puke. Hating myself in any way makes me grieve, and that's something I can't afford.”

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Book:Unearthing

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