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“There are two ways to get enough. One is to continue to accumulate more and more. The other is to desire less.”
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“I want a book that acknowledges that life goes on, but death goes on too, that a person who is dead is a long, long story. You move on from it, , but the death will never disappear from view.”
― An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination
― An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination
“I'm thinking of that Florida lady again, the one who wanted a book about the lighter side of a child's death, and I know: all she wanted was permission to remember her child with pleasure instead of grief. To remember that he was dead, but to remember him without pain: he's dead but of course she still loves him, and that love isn't morbid or bloodstained or unsightly, it doesn't need to be shoved away.”
― An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination
― An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination
“When I was a teenager in Boston, a man on the subway handed me a card printed with tiny pictures of hands spelling out the alphabet in sign language. I AM DEAF, said the card. You were supposed to give the man some money in exchange.
I have thought of that card ever since, during difficult times, mine or someone else's; surely when tragedy has struck you dumb, you should be given a stack of cards that explain it for you. When Pudding died, I wanted my stack. I still want it. My first child was stillborn, it would say on the front. It remains the hardest thing for me to explain, even now, or maybe I mean especially now - now that his death feels like a non sequitur. My first child was stillborn. I want people to know but I don't want to say it aloud. People don't like to hear it but I think they might not mind reading it on a card.”
― An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination
I have thought of that card ever since, during difficult times, mine or someone else's; surely when tragedy has struck you dumb, you should be given a stack of cards that explain it for you. When Pudding died, I wanted my stack. I still want it. My first child was stillborn, it would say on the front. It remains the hardest thing for me to explain, even now, or maybe I mean especially now - now that his death feels like a non sequitur. My first child was stillborn. I want people to know but I don't want to say it aloud. People don't like to hear it but I think they might not mind reading it on a card.”
― An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination
Laurel’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Laurel’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
929 books
|
55 friends
524 books
|
194 friends
1,937 books
|
1,063 friends
696 books
|
79 friends
127 books
|
154 friends
838 books
|
61 friends
2,072 books
|
108 friends
200 books
|
56 friends
More friends…
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