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Where the Lost Wa...
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by Amy Harmon (Goodreads Author)
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  (page 123 of 349)
"I am a big fan of this book. I find it very interesting The plot and the character development are both good. The writing is good. It puts my current life circumstance into perspective. How those people survived riding in a wagon train and traveling west is beyond my comprehension. But they did it! I’m gonna snuggle into my king-size bed with my multiple pillows and my comforter for a good night sleep. 🤞" 17 hours, 45 min ago

 
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Lisa Robitaille is currently reading
by Emily Henry (Goodreads Author)
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  (page 260 of 377)
Jul 31, 2026 06:55PM

 
Lonesome Dove
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  (page 134 of 960)
Mar 16, 2026 08:50AM

 
See all 31 books that Lisa is reading…
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“This is an important lesson to remember when you're having a bad day, a bad month, or a shitty year. Things will change: you won't feel this way forever. And anyway, sometimes the hardest lessons to learn are the ones your soul needs most. I believe you can't feel real joy unless you've felt heartache. You can't have a sense of victory unless you know what it means to fail. You can't know what it's like to feel holy until you know what it's like to feel really fucking evil. And you can't be birthed again until you've died.”
Kelly Cutrone, If You Have to Cry, Go Outside: And Other Things Your Mother Never Told You

Carrie Fisher
“No motive is pure. No one is good or bad-but a hearty mix of both. And sometimes life actually gives to you by taking away.”
Carrie Fisher, Wishful Drinking

Maya Angelou
“When Great Trees Fall

When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.

When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.

Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.”
Maya Angelou

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