Thalia

“His take on the world was his; that didn't mean I had to mold myself to fit into it. This was an astonishing revelation to me. I'd spent my entire life trying to massage everyone's feelings, walking on eggshells, subjugating my own wishes to keep peace. I was far too interested in pleasing other people, in keeping them happy, and trying to figure out continually what they'd like me to be.”
― Geena Davis, Dying of Politeness: A Memoir

“He began teaching me the basics of technique but put equal emphasis on the mental game. He taught me that the vital key was the ability to let go of the outcome. You must be able to repeat the best version of your shot as many times as you can, exactly the same way. Any shot where your try harder, which he referred to as the 'fancy shot' will throw off your technique. Even if you're down to the last arrow to win the gold medal you have to think of it as just another shot, rather than trying for an extra good shot. You can't be invested in the outcome. Just take the shot.”
― Geena Davis, Dying of Politeness: A Memoir

“My skill at being no trouble to anyone also kicked in early. I was sitting on my mom's lap during a church service, and as one-year-olds are wont, I was fussing, and jerking and generally moving around a bunch. Somehow, I managed to clock my head on the pew in front of us; the bonk of my skull hitting wood was so loud everything stopped. The congregation held its collective breath to see how much bloody murder I was prepared to scream. And then, nothing. Mom said she held me tightly, quietly saying, "Shhh.. Shhh.." This because one of her favorite stories about me. As if I'd passed some kind of cosmic test in which I had maintained decorum and invisibility.”
― Geena Davis, Dying of Politeness: A Memoir

“Outside the Miramar Hotel in Santa Monica a hard subtropical rain had been falling for days. It has scaled more paint from the faded hotels and rooming houses... It streamed down the blank windows of unleased offices, loosened the soft coastal cliffs and heightened the most characteristic Santa Monica affect, that air of dispirited abandon which suggests that the place survives only as an illustration of a boom gone bankrupt.”
― Joan Didion,