Grace Meredith

“I've never been in love. I've dreamt of it day and night, but my heart is like a fine piano no one can play because the key is lost.”
― Anton Chekhov, The Three Sisters

“People who intentionally become famous - I mean people who, after a little taste of fame, want more and more of it - are, and I honestly believe this, deeply psychologically ill. The fact that we are exposed to these people everywhere in our culture, as if they are not only normal but attractive and enviable, indicates the extent of our disfiguring social disease.”
― Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

“You know, they straightened out the Mississippi River in places, to make room for hourse and livable acreage. Occasionally the river floods these places. "Floods" is the word they use, but in fact it is not flooding; it is remembering. Remembering where it used to be. All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. Writers are like that: remembering where we were, that valley we ran through, what the banks were like, the light that was there and the route back to our original place. It is emotional memory--what the nerves and the skin remember as well as how it appeared. And a rush of imagination is our "flooding.”
― Toni Morrison

“What do you think has become of the young and old
men?
And what do you think has become of the women
and children?
They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does
not wait at the
end to arrest it,
And ceased the moment life appeared.
All goes onward and outward.... and nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed,
and luckier.
Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to
die, and I
know it.
I pass death with the dying, and birth with the newwashed
babe.... and am not contained between my hat and
boots,
And peruse manifold objects, no two alike, and
every one good,
The earth good, and the stars good, and their adjuncts
all good.
I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,
I am the mate and companion of people, all just as
immortal and
fathomless as myself;
They do not know how immortal, but I know.”
― Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass