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Kindle Notes & Highlights
I have always longed to be known, truly known, by another human being. Sometimes we live for years with yearnings that we cannot name.
Omalicha m, nwa m mulu n’afo, anyanwu ututu m. My beautiful one. Child of my womb. My sunshine in the morning.
Why was a novel a metaphor for unrealistic, anyway? Novels had always felt to me truer to what was real.
“Does it help to know that the world is full of people who are sadder than you?” “But I’m not sad, I just dream,”
In an unfinished dying, you feel you must mourn yet you can’t begin, because you haven’t reached an end that you understand.
That ancient story: the woman wants the baby and the man doesn’t want the baby and a middle ground does not exist. What would a middle ground be, anyway? They couldn’t have half a baby.
I do like my life. I flail for meaning sometimes, maybe too often, but it is a full life, and a life I own.
To be alone is not always to be lonely.
She relates with women only through the pain caused them by men.
An act of self-praise more than an act of giving.
