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Cruel birds, ravens, but wise. And creatures should be loved for their wisdom if they cannot be loved for kindness.
I so often feel that I am barely here, that to feel weight is to be reminded of my own existence.
God has had His chance to free me, and for reasons known to Him alone, He has pinned me to ill fortune, and although I have struggled, I am run through and through with disaster; I am knifed to the hilt with fate.
As though prayer could simply pluck sin out. But any woman knows that a thread, once woven, is fixed in place; the only way to smooth a mistake is to let it all unravel.
“To know what a person has done, and to know who a person is, are very different things.”
No matter if you tried to do what was best. No matter if your innermost self whispers, ‘I am not as you say!’—how other people think of you determines who you are.”
Memories shift like loose snow in a wind, or are a chorale of ghosts all talking over one another. There is only ever a sense that what is real to me is not real to others, and to share a memory with someone
is to risk sullying my belief in what has truly happened.
“‘The treachery of a friend is worse than that of a foe,’”
blíndur er bóklaus maður. Blind is a man without a book.”
Man has created God out of fear of dying.”
For the first time in my life, someone saw me, and I loved him because he made me feel I was enough.
