“Love is not dead, I am not dead, I still have faith in people. Once that was my greatest weakness, now it is my strength, my revenge.”
― A Hymn to Life
― A Hymn to Life
“Shame must change sides.”
― A Hymn to Life
― A Hymn to Life
“I felt like I had lost my mind, like his exit had transformed me, suddenly, from an intelligent, stable wife and mother to an unhinged lunatic. A madwoman. Somehow, I had become the dangerous person in the story, the volatile character, rather than he, the man who had left his family.”
― Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage
― Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage
“Slowly, over many months, as my head came out of the sand, a form of joy set in —joy born of replacing the not knowing with knowing, the nub of worry with clarity, the lack of control with control...I thought, 'this is better than everything I lost. This is better than the life I thought I wanted.”
― Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage
― Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage
“Today, looking back on the moment I made the decision, I am aware that had I been twenty years younger, I probably wouldn’t have dared request that the case be heard in open court. I would have been too afraid of the looks: those damn looks that women of my generation have always had
to contend with; those damn looks that make you waver in the morning between a dress and trousers, that follow you or ignore you, flatter you or embarrass you; those damn looks that seem to tell you who you are or what you’re worth, only to forsake you as you age. It was exactly that nerve
Dominique pressed when he told me I should be glad my husband still desired me whenever he photographed me coming out of the bathroom. I
was, no doubt, still susceptible to it. It’s foolish, but that’s how we were freer, more autonomous women, yet still afraid of being abandoned, still
longing to be saved. Maybe the shame lifts once you hit seventy and no one looks at you any more. I don’t know. I wasn’t afraid of my wrinkles or my body.”
― A Hymn to Life
to contend with; those damn looks that make you waver in the morning between a dress and trousers, that follow you or ignore you, flatter you or embarrass you; those damn looks that seem to tell you who you are or what you’re worth, only to forsake you as you age. It was exactly that nerve
Dominique pressed when he told me I should be glad my husband still desired me whenever he photographed me coming out of the bathroom. I
was, no doubt, still susceptible to it. It’s foolish, but that’s how we were freer, more autonomous women, yet still afraid of being abandoned, still
longing to be saved. Maybe the shame lifts once you hit seventy and no one looks at you any more. I don’t know. I wasn’t afraid of my wrinkles or my body.”
― A Hymn to Life
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