What would it be like to look in the mirror and actually accept what you see? Not loathe the reflection, or despise it, or be resigned to it? But to like it?
When the creative impulse sweeps over you, grab it. You grab it and honor it and use it, because momentum is a rare gift.
He knew me in all the ways that truly mattered: the shape of my fears, the contours of my dreams.
Flawed, we’re truly interesting, truly memorable, and yes, truly beautiful.
I didn’t know that the world could be so mind-blowingly beautiful.
I preferred my brand of beauty where Norah was more beautiful than any bimbette, and Mom was beautiful whether sized extra-small or extra-large. Where Peony could look at herself in the mirror and murmur, wow, look at me. Just look at me.
My confidence was of the hothouse variety, carefully cultivated under highly regulated conditions. One wrong look, one mean comment, and my facade would wither.
Hey, if it’s a good philosophy, it works. Death is imminent. Live every day like it’s your last.
Jacob: “Let her stare.”Terra: “What?”Jacob: “Yeah most of the starers are just curious. Smile back. That’s what I used to do.
I wondered about her chicken-and-egg relationship with Dad. Which came first? Her helplessness or his controlling?
Getting lost is just another way of saying ‘going exploring.
North-ish.” A pause, and then: “Is that Terra for I’m lost-ish?
how many times had I begged Mom to divorce him already?