More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Old age confers anonymity, which makes it the most effective disguise of all.
We know the truth, but we keep each other’s secrets, because we each have our own to guard. There’s safety in mutual blackmail.
Outside it’s started to snow, and fat flakes swirl beyond the window, the kind of snow that’s a delight to walk in. Bianca doesn’t look like a woman who delights in snowflakes.
When you live your whole life in one town, you know all the places where tragedy has occurred, because bad memories are as permanent as gravestones.
It had everything he required: a bookstore, a decent town library, a coffee shop that served espresso, and no nearby nuclear targets.
I doubt the police will ask what we are all retired from, because when you are over the hill, what you did in your previous life is of little interest to most people.
It’s the possibility of a better outcome that screws with your mind, that breeds hope, which ultimately leads to disappointment.
the vibe he gives off. Wide eyed. Eager. Someone who’s delighted by every new experience.
Pain is a powerful spice, the other face of pleasure. Some of us crave it, just enough of it, to remind us we’re alive.
The truth is far more complicated, but when you live in a world of mirrors, the truth is always distorted. Too often, it’s what we choose to see while ignoring all the inconvenient bits, the nagging details that distort our view. We crave clarity, and so we lie to ourselves.
It’s true; absence does make the heart grow fonder. It also makes the loins burn hotter.
absolutely is a dangerous word. It leaves no room for doubt, or for any truths we prefer not to see.
Living hard doesn’t mean dying early; sometimes it just means those hard years end up on your face.
There’s always some secret corner of your life that you cannot share with anyone.
“She’s fifteen. They’re all brats. I was a brat too.”
Retired does not mean useless.
Small talk before big talk
The closer one gets to the grave, the clearer everything becomes,
You never feel more alive than just before you die.
When you care about no one, you can be fearless because the world cannot destroy you,
relationships have a way of creeping up on you. You may not register the little jolt of oxytocin released into your bloodstream whenever your neighbor waves at you, or when his granddaughter beams at you as you step into their kitchen.
We don’t look at each other, don’t say all the things two old friends should be saying when they’re about to part for maybe the last time. I am already resigned to the likelihood that these might well be our final moments together.
I don’t believe in an afterlife, don’t believe that dying heroically earns you a seat in Valhalla.
A bounty of casseroles is what friends bring you in a crisis,
And that’s what we must learn to deal with: Our place in a world that sees us as used up and irrelevant. This new generation looks only to the future, with little regard for the past and what it could teach them. What we could teach them.
She’s not a sprinter but a marathon runner who just keeps moving forward, one foot in front of the other, always focused on her objective. She can’t outsmart us but she can outlast us,
Crime in progress. Is there any village, any town, where these words do not apply? We have learned that even our small town is not protected from the woes of the world. If a nuclear bomb falls on Washington, the prevailing winds will bring radioactive dust straight to our safe little corner. If countries collapse in Europe, or war erupts in East Asia, the ripples of devastation will eventually wash up in Purity, Maine. We are not immune. No one is.
