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“Words define us, they explain us, and, on occasion, they serve to control or isolate us.”
― The Dictionary of Lost Words
― The Dictionary of Lost Words
“LOSS
'Sorry for your loss, they say. And I want to know what they mean, because it's not just my boys I've lost. I've lost my motherhood, my chance to be a grandmother. I've lost the easy conversation of neighbours and the comfort of family in my old age. Every day I wake to some new loss that I hadn't thought of before, and I know that soon it will be my mind.'
Vivienne Blackman, 1915”
― The Dictionary of Lost Words
'Sorry for your loss, they say. And I want to know what they mean, because it's not just my boys I've lost. I've lost my motherhood, my chance to be a grandmother. I've lost the easy conversation of neighbours and the comfort of family in my old age. Every day I wake to some new loss that I hadn't thought of before, and I know that soon it will be my mind.'
Vivienne Blackman, 1915”
― The Dictionary of Lost Words
“I cannot overstate the benefits of a busy day for an anxious mind or a lonely heart.”
― The Dictionary of Lost Words
― The Dictionary of Lost Words
“It doesn’t hurt so much to lose out on things if you never hoped for them in the first place. What really hurts is having things right there in front of you, and wanting them, and not being able to reach them.”
― The Forest of Wool and Steel
― The Forest of Wool and Steel
“His beautiful silver hair had turned snow white over the course of just a few days following Chubb's death, and in a way this made him seem younger: made him seem to fit the white caliche landscape even better, and blend in.
His skin was turning whiter, too, even after he had been out in the sun,
It was beautiful, watching him get old-ancient-now that I had realized he too was going to die. This time I could understand it. It was like watching some graceful diver plunge in slow motion-the slowest-from the top of an improbably high cliff, down to the cool river below.”
― The Sky, The Stars, The Wilderness
His skin was turning whiter, too, even after he had been out in the sun,
It was beautiful, watching him get old-ancient-now that I had realized he too was going to die. This time I could understand it. It was like watching some graceful diver plunge in slow motion-the slowest-from the top of an improbably high cliff, down to the cool river below.”
― The Sky, The Stars, The Wilderness
A’s 2025 Year in Books
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