A little late this week, but I want to keep the quote momentum going.
From the late, brilliant Maya Angelou, with whose work I spent a great deal of time this week.
“I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life’s a bitch. You’ve got to go out and kick ass.”
I was unfamiliar with this one but saw it posted by many, many women whom I admire (obviously, for good reason).
“Does my sassiness offend you?”
I listened to Dr. Angelou recite her empowering poem Still I Rise and this one line stood out as something I long to say. I often feel the need to apologize for my “big personality” — this line reminded me that the problem might lie in others, not in me.
“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
I heard it; I said it; I read it; I hold it in my heart.
“Listen to yourself and in that quietude you might hear the voice of God.”
I’ve followed Angelou on social media since I started using it. This was the last of her written words that I “liked.”
From Michael Cunningham, The Snow Queen
“Here’s the sting of livingness. He’s back after his nightly voyage of sleep, all clarity and purpose; he’s renewed his citizenship in the world of people who strive and connect, people who mean business, people who burn and want, who remember everything, who walk lucid and unafraid.
The Snow Queen wasn’t the best book I read all week, but it certainly contained the strongest writing. I can’t get the phrase “sting of livingness” out of my mind. There is a sharp bitterness that comes when you believe the rest of the world is going about their business happily and easily which Cunningham captures precisely.
From Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Possibilities
“I just want to know everything,” I say. We walk toward the door.
There really is nothing else to do but know the things we want to know.”
In The Possibilities, Sarah St. John is still reeling from her son’s death in an avalanche. She wants answers to everything about his unknowable life. Without being maudlin or morose, Hemmings captures that frustration of grief that the “knowing” has come to an end.
From Jonathan Tropper, Everything Changes
“People brush past us on the street in endless waves…completely oblivious to the holocaust of an entire world casually imploding in their midst.”
Melodramatic? Certainly. But I do love Tropper’s way with words. His character’s self-awareness really shows in the drama of his personal holocaust imploding. It’s part of a great scene as this novel reaches a climax.
I’d love to know what lines have caught your attention.