Hopscotch and Heels

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Mistakes are like the memories you hide in the attic: old love letters from relationships that tanked, photos of dead relatives, toys from a childhood you miss. Out of sight is out of mind, but somewhere deep inside you know they still exist. And you also know that you’re avoiding them.

EDWARD WARREN, Lone Wolf, Jodi Picoult (via thepicoultwisdom)

(via thepicoultwisdom)

Do you want to know what it was really like without her there? I could still feel her in the house. I can now. The reason I won’t go to sleep is because sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I can sense her, if that means anything. Sometimes when I’m alone I think she’s standing behind me, watching me. It’s like she never left. It’s like it always was.” Oh Jane. I lean my cheek against the cool counter. “For fifteen years I kissed her hello and goodbye and I didn’t make anything of it. It was a habit. I didn’t even notice when I was doing it. I couldn’t tell you what her skin feels like, if you asked. I couldn’t even tell you what it’s like to hold her hand.” All of a sudden I’m crying, something I haven’t done since I was a child. “I don’t have any memories of the important things.

Jodi Picoult, Songs of the Humpback Whale (via absolvedindiscretions)

Once, during a medical exam, the doctor asked novelist Laurie Colwin what she did for a living.
“I’m a writer,” she replied.
“That’s nice,” the doctor said approvingly. “I’ve been thinking about writing a book myself.”
“That’s nice,” Laurie mimicked him. “And I’ve been thinking about performing brain surgery.

From my print archives.  Source lost, but likely The Philadelphia Inquirer (via maniacfinds)