Renata Wundram

“I felt like one of those mythical heroes who fights his way back from the underworld only to realize that the world above is every bit as damned as the one below.”
― Ransom Riggs, Library of Souls

“She said you had drowned. “She was on vacation,” Mom continued. I noticed how perfectly still she was sitting, how rigid her shoulders were. “A beach vacation.” Then she added, as if it would somehow help the thing she’d said make any sense at all, “In Maryland.” But of course her words didn’t make sense. There were a million reasons they didn’t. They didn’t make sense because it hadn’t been that long since I’d seen you, and you were as alive as anyone then. Her words didn’t make sense because you were always such a good swimmer, better than I was from the instant we met. They didn’t make sense because the way things ended between us was not the way they were supposed to end. They were not the way anything should ever end. And yet here was my mom, she was right in front of me, and she was saying these words. And if her words were true, if she was right about this thing she was telling me, it meant that the last glimpse I’d had of you—walking down the hallway on the last day of sixth grade, carrying those bags of wet clothes and crying—would be the final one I’d ever have. I stared at my mom. “No, she didn’t,” I said. You hadn’t. You couldn’t have. I was sure of that. Mom opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.”
― Ali Benjamin, The Thing About Jellyfish - FREE PREVIEW EDITION

“years: You. Your spouse. Your child. Your friends. The people who love you. The people who hate you. Terrorists in the Middle East. The politicians raising your taxes and making bad policies. The teacher who gave your son a bad grade. The couple who didn’t invite you to a dinner. I have gone down this mental path when things have upset me. I find it puts life in perspective. It can be a good thing, to remember that there is very little that truly matters. A bad grade. A dumb politician. A social slight. Unfortunately, there are things that do matter. Things that can ruin what little time we have here. Things that cannot be done over or remedied. These are the things that we regret. And regret is more devious than guilt. It is more corrosive than envy. And it is more powerful than fear.”
― Wendy Walker, All Is Not Forgotten

“simply have been grateful for what I had. I should have celebrated my life as it was, imperfections, sadness, and all, and not forensically examined its faults. Those faults were largely in the eyes of a critical and sharp-edged society anyhow, and I had learned to recognize them by osmosis, by following the herd.”
― Gilly Macmillan, What She Knew