The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion: Vol. 4

by Beth Brower

We’re both far too committed to hearing our own opinions.”

“Strange is that unexpected moment that stays with you, that makes you think about it again. Strange is memorable, and compelling.”

After piously greeting a few of my neighbours, I sat in my usual row. Not too near the front, not too far back. The sign of a balanced soul.

if the right man should come along, and money looks more like love than one would initially suppose, don’t turn your back on a chance for happiness merely because he has the means to save you.” It was the most fiscally romantic thing I had ever heard.

if one is to wear orange, wear it with class. No need to be a spectacle.

Felicity is the gift of a book.

She looked like a blackbird with a broken wing.

Standing in the end of October, with birdcall and grey clouds, aware of a man leaning against the shaded wall of the church, shovel at his side, ready to bury Maxwell’s body as soon as the lonely young woman could bear to leave it forever.

How clearly it seemed I could hear his voice. That voice. The one that had been the only.

Bless a man who knows how to keep his own counsel when you can’t bear to speak.

“Where is home?” I asked. “A place that ceased to be that a long time ago. Where it was is of little consequence.”

We three sat in the small noises of a quiet tea.

She was a woman who knew sorrow, with no need of protection.

It was the most tremendous gift, to think that a new piece of my life had briefly touched the old.

Looking for quiet does not follow I was looking for solitude.”