The Sparrow (The Sparrow, #1)

by Mary Doria Russell

Romanità rests on an absolute conviction of ultimate success and arises from a single principle, Cunctando regitur mundus: Waiting, one conquers all.

He was fascinated by the beautiful grooming and attention to detail: the arrangement of hair, the delicacy of shoes, the perfection of cosmetics. And thought of shallow graves in the Sudan, and mastered the anger, knowing it was partly exhaustion.

“Look straight at ’em and deal with ’em. Work it through, as honestly as you can. If God is anything like a middle-class white chick from the suburbs, which I admit is a long shot, it’s what you do about what you feel that matters.”

She could think of dozens of things to say: that nobody can make anyone else love them, that half the world’s misery was wanting someone who didn’t want you, that unavailability was a powerful aphrodisiac,

feeling very...seen

If you saw a burning bush, would you (a) call 911, (b) get the hot dogs, or (c) recognize God? A vanishingly small number of people would recognize God, Anne had decided years before, and most of them had simply missed a dose of Thorazine.

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.

Every ten years or so, George and I have faced the fact that we have changed and we’ve had to decide if it makes sense to create a new marriage between these two new people.”

So many people buried the soul’s pain in their bodies, Edward thought.

She waited, watching him, pleased to see the color come back and then touched to realize that he was blushing. Self-disclosure is almost like sex, she thought. It isn’t easy to bare your soul.