Michelle McCracken

“Praise Song for Fingers That Do Not Form a Fist An insect, its name lost among those orders of creatures who number in the millions, has somehow found its way into the kitchen sink. This is not an indoor bug, not one of the ordinary housemates who dwell in the corners of the kitchen cabinets, beneath the unmade beds. How easy it would be to wash this bug out with the pasta water in the pot that has been soaking overnight, but please hold back. Surely the world harbors death enough already. It’s too easy to choose ease, too convenient to choose convenience, but try to take the harder path, for the harder path is not very hard. The creature scurries into the corner of the sink and tries to climb the slick walls. Reach toward it. When it climbs into your palm, gently close your fingers around it. Be careful to hold your thumb to the side. If you never close your thumb around your fingers, you will make of your hand a sanctuary. You will make of your hand safe passage to the world.”
― Margaret Renkl, The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year

“Leni shook her head, feeling a familiar sadness creep in. She could never tell him how it felt to live with a dad who scared you sometimes and a mother who loved him too much and make him prove how much he loved her in dangerous ways. Like flirting.
These were Leni's secrets. Her burdens. She couldn't share them.
All this time, all these years, she'd dreamed of having a real friend, one who would tell her everything. How had she missed the obvious?
Leni couldn't have a real friend because she couldn't be one.”
― Kristin Hannah, The Great Alone

“When there’s no place for the scalpel”
― Paul Kalanithi, When Breath Becomes Air