Kathleen Murphy

“And the boys were behind me, a tide-wall of laughter and yelling, hugging my legs, tripping and grabbing, leaping, spinning, stumbling, roaring, shrieking and the boys shouted I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU and their voice was the life and song of their mother. Unfinished. Beautiful. Everything.”
― Max Porter, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers

“We will never fight again, our lovely, quick, template-ready arguments. Our delicate cross-stitch of bickers.

The house becomes a physical encyclopedia of no-longer hers, which shocks and shocks and is the principal difference between our house and a house where illness has worked away. Ill people, in their last day on Earth, do not leave notes stuck to bottles of red wine saying ‘OH NO YOU DON’T COCK-CHEEK’. She was not busy dying, and there is no detritus of care, she was simply busy living, and then she was gone.

She won’t ever use (make-up, turmeric, hairbrush, thesaurus).

She will never finish (Patricia Highsmith novel, peanut butter, lip balm).

And I will never shop for green Virago Classics for her birthday.

I will stop finding her hairs.


I will stop hearing her breathing.”
― Max Porter, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers

“It is such a rare thing in this world to find someone who is not constantly trying to impress someone, be liked, or fill empty airspace with mindless chatter. A person who is completely, unapologetically okay with who they are and what they feel is like a beacon of light in the dark. As author Anne Lamott once said, “Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.”
― Michaela Chung, The Irresistible Introvert: Harness the Power of Quiet Charisma in a Loud World

“She was not busy dying, and there is no detritus of care, she was simply busy living, and then she was gone. She”
― Max Porter, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers