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“Remember the deer. There were deer in the park, but not too many. They were not good near the cars. In fact, they were strangely susceptible, oddly vulnerable, especially at night. There were few cars in the park at night, but with their bright lights, blinding moving moonlights, they were visible a million miles away, and so easy to avoid. The deer, though, they were drawn to the lights, and caught by the lights, and killed by the lights. Every few months we found a deer in the road, struck dead, and it would baffle us all. Why did they get so close when the lights and smells and sounds of the cars were so obvious? 'We all have weaknesses,' Freya noted... 'We all have something that blinds us to threats.”
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“When had time grown such rapid and vigorous wings? The day already felt as if it were slipping away and she had little hope of catching it.”
― One for the Blackbird, One for the Crow
― One for the Blackbird, One for the Crow
“Remember the deer.” There were deer in the park, but not too many. They were not good near the cars. In fact, they were strangely susceptible, oddly vulnerable, especially at night. There were few cars in the park, but with their bright lights, blinding moving moonlights, they were visible a million miles away, and so easy to avoid. The deer, though, they were drawn to the lights, and caught by the lights, and killed by the lights. Every few months, we would find a deer in the road, struck dead, and it would baffle us. Why did they get so close when the lights and the sounds and the smells of the cars were so obvious? “We all have weaknesses,” Freya noted… “We all have something that blinds us to threats.”
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“How I came not to care about other people’s opinions is something of a mystery even to me. I was born with a compass. It was the luck of my draw. This compass has been incalculably beneficial for writing —for everything, really— and for that reason I take very good care of it. How do you take care of your internal compass? You don’t listen to anyone who tells you to do something as consequential as having a child. Think about that one for a second.”
― These Precious Days: Essays
― These Precious Days: Essays
“…spoken words are just as powerful, as undeniable, as written ones. Perhaps more so, even, because they don’t have a landing pad like their written counterparts. There is no thrice-folded-up note or bathroom stall on which to be scribbled. Instead, the spoken words -the hurtful ones- float around in you, without a substance on which to anchor. The hurt shifts like water, sloshing around in your insides, rising up when you tilt certain ways, sometimes unexpectedly so. Just to remind you it is still there.”
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