45 Quotes by David Bergen

-And what would you do if you lost a child?-I would think I was going to die, Elena said. But I wouldn't. I learned long ago that I must give up my child to the earth, to God, to the world, to death, to the possibility of death, to the possibility of disease, and in doing so I became at peace. Because I had let my child go. And in letting the child go, I became colder, more distant, and more at peace. But I still loved the child, don't be wrong. As you love your child. I am sorry.

Her mother had once told her that one could run away from home, from husband, from children, from trouble, but it was impossible to run away from oneself. "You always have to take yourself with you," she said. And now, bending towards her mother, Hope wondered if in death you were finally able to run away from yourself. This might be death's gift. She knew that the thought wasn't terribly profound, but she was moved by the notion of completion and of escape.

Hope had finally learned to live in the present. Often, when she found herself in a space of tremendous comfort, usually out in nature, or when her children were safe all around her and on the verge of going to bed, she forced herself to take stock. Here you are, Hope, she told herself. What a beautiful moment. You may never again be here at this spot, enjoying the calm. This habit of hers, to acknowledge the immediate and elusive joy of the present, kept her sane.

Words mean nothing. They are like the husks of the coffee Bean. They cover what is essential, which is the bean itself, and when the husks are discarded, they lie on the road and rot and disappear. Actions are what lie inside, like the bean.

The most difficult part of being a mother was to observe the mistakes of one's children: the foolish loves, the desperate solitude and alienation, the lack of will, the gullibility, the joyous and naive leaps into the unknown, the ignorance, the panicky choices and the utter determination.

-Because they're free.-They might look free, but they aren't. Believe me. You're free.-How am I free?-You're free to be modest. You're free to not smoke up. You're free to be here and listen and not respond to the nonsense that Hanna spouts. You're very calm, and you're very comfortable with yourself.

She left feeling dirty, and on the bus ride home she knew that what her uncles told her had come true: she had been attracted to an object that was beautiful, and she had become spellbound, and then its shape had changed, and what had appeared beautiful had turned ugly.

Marcie talked about her life, and she talked about the courses she was taking. She told Lily that she was a feminist and she said that women had to take back the space that men had stolen from them. She talked about her body. She talked about ownership. She said that she was proud of her period, and Lily thought that this was the oddest thing to be proud of. She herself wasn't ashamed of it, but she hadn't ever thought it worth discussing.

For me, when I 'discover' a story, there is a feeling of buoyancy and clarity, perhaps similar to early morning out on a prairie highway, when darkness lifts and reveals the outline of farmhouses and copses of trees in the distance.