Tuesday's Socks Quotes

“Life was short and too precious to waste on what ifs and, worse still, if onlys”
― Alison Ragsdale, Tuesday's Socks

“Jeffrey had resolved to have no secrets from her. Start as you mean to go on was what Agnes had often said, and Jeffrey intended to follow his mother’s lead.”
― Alison Ragsdale, Tuesday's Socks

“Mary’s mum had often told her that men were like buses. She’d said that you could wait around for ages, never seeing the one you needed, and then two would turn up at the same time.”
― Alison Ragsdale, Tuesday's Socks

“It cost nothing to be nice to people, to make them feel valued. She wondered why it was so hard for some to do.”
― Alison Ragsdale, Tuesday's Socks

“He was the tiny particle of grit in the oyster of her new contentment.”
― Alison Ragsdale, Tuesday's Socks

“Everyone knew that in order to make something better, sometimes you had to break it first. Well, he’d broken something, all right. The mold he’d taken sixty-four years to make for himself lay in pieces at his slippered feet. And now, after everything he’d experienced, he wanted so much more from his life.”
― Alison Ragsdale, Tuesday's Socks

“was the only place he wanted to be right at this moment. Tossing his clothes into a pile on the floor, Jeffrey yanked his pajamas from the drawer, put them on, then climbed under his duvet and pulled it over his head. He just needed to sleep. He’d figure out what to do in the morning. He could hear a ticking sound, but not like the one his clock made. Jeffrey pulled the covers away from his head and looked around the dark room. There was an odd shadow in the chair in the corner. As he swallowed hard and screwed his eyes up to focus, he saw Agnes, her needles clacking as she knitted, her head lowered purposefully over her work. “Mum, what’re you doing?” he whispered. “I could ask you the same thing, laddie.” The little purple head tilted to the side, and his mother’s dark eyes connected with his. “I don’t understand ye, Jeffrey.” Jeffrey sat up in bed and turned on the bedside light. Meanwhile, Agnes carefully wrapped a long strand of wool around the bulk of what she was working on, stuck the needles through the bundle, and placed it behind her as she rose from the chair. He watched her familiar movements, afraid to move or breathe too deeply in case she wafted away. When she sat on the edge of his bed, Jeffrey noted that she made no impression on the duvet, like a butterfly landing on a flower. He leaned back against his pillow and tried”
― Alison Ragsdale, Tuesday's Socks

“as two women might have,”
― Alison Ragsdale, Tuesday's Socks

“the force of her intention. He”
― Alison Ragsdale, Tuesday's Socks