31 Quotes by Amanda Coplin

This was the image Angeline had of him at the time; always moving to the edges of some sort of celebration.

It was not the presents laid out on the bed, or the airing of, the constant fussing over, his suit. Not the slow, deliberate polishing of his good shoes, and wrapping them, for safety, in a paper bag. She was only a little wary of these things. Suspicious. But what she feared most were his silences. The times when she felt him prepare to speak, but ultimately falter. Turn away. The leagues, which his eyes revealed at times, of what he did not say.

Things might get very bad, things might be worse than she ever imagined, but the stars existed, and that was something.

How like the orchard she was. Because of her slowness and the attitude in which she held herself -seemingly deferent, quiet-it appeared even a harsh word would smite her. But it would not. She was like an egg encased in iron. She was the dream of the place that bore her, and she did not even know it.

She craved it for some reason- she would not look at it directly- that sense of despair.

He protected her, he placed himself between her and the world.

But she did not know where the doubt, the fear, began. It had always been there, but she had sought to rearrange it within herself; and in the constant rearrangement was transformation.

He did not expect her to be happy – how that word lost meaning as the years progressed – but he only wished her to be unafraid, and able to experience small joys.

What was recognized as success – the applause, the exclamations, the job well done; she was already off the horse, pumping people’s hands in congratulations – did not fill her. Did not even begin to fill her. What she wanted was the despair, or something else that was found there. Something that lived with despair. But the moment she was inside it, she failed to find what it was she wanted so badly. And so she would ride again.