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Quote by Lisa Genova

“It's like you don't get that she's not gone yet, like you think her time left isn't meaningful anymore. You're acting like a selfish child.”

Quote by Lisa Genova

Work

Still Alice

Still Alice is a narrative that follows Alice Howland, a linguistics professor, as she faces the devastating diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's disease. The story delves into the emotional and intellectual challenges Alice encounters, offering a raw and intimate portrayal of the disease's impact on her life, relationships, and career. The novel explores themes of identity, memory, and the human spirit in the face of adversity. more

Author

Lisa Genova
Lisa Genova

Lisa Genova, born in 1970, is an American author known for her insightful exploration of medicine, psychology, and human emotions in her works. more

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“And Emily had yet to shed a single tear. It troubled her all the way back to the city, and she rode with one hand sandwiched between her cheek and the cool, shuddering glass of the limousine window, as if that might help. She tried whispering 'Daddy' to herself, tried closing her eyes and picturing his face, but it didn't work. Then she thought of something that made her throat close up: she might never have been her father's baby, but he had always called her 'little rabbit.' And she was crying easily now, causing her mother to reach over and squeeze her hand; the only trouble was that she couldn't be sure whether she cried for her father or for Warren Maddock, or Maddox, who was back in South Carolina now being shipped out to a division. But she stopped crying abruptly when she realized that even that was a lie: these tears, as always before in her life, were wholly for herself—for poor, sensitive Emily Grimes whom nobody understood, and who understood nothing.”

“A poor old Widow in her weeds Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds; Not too shallow, and not too deep, And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip. Up shone May, like gold, and soon Green as an arbour grew leafy June. And now all summer she sits and sews Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows, Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet, Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit; Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells; Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells; Like Oberon's meadows her garden is Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees. Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs, And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes; And all she has is all she needs -- A poor Old Widow in her weeds.”