The Book of Lost and Found

by Lucy Foley

I think it often happens like this. You wait, and hope, until eventually the hoping seems in vain and the thing you wish for begins to seem impossible. You try to forget, to move on. And sometimes, once you have gone through this painful process, by some peculiar alchemy, it happens.

“Believe me, I’ve been where you are now. The most important thing is to continue to do the thing you want to, to keep battling on. That, in my opinion, is the main part of the struggle. Most give up when it seems too difficult.”

This is what it is to be young: this is what people mean when they talk about the freedom and folly of youth, the reckless glamour of it.

Find your own style—and you must be brave, because it takes courage to strike out alone. You must not be afraid of ridicule; indeed, you may want to court it.

I have a theory, you see, that the most precious memories can be damaged with too much handling, as with all delicate objects.

the thrill of this small voyage out of her usual sphere of existence, has shown her how much more she wants to do with her life

In many ways, my life has been rather like a record of the lost and found. Perhaps all lives are like that. Lost: love; found: independence. Lost: a daughter; found: a granddaughter.”