11 Quotes by Laura McBride

But that's the thing, how you feel about the place that's home. About its sky, its air, its smell, the color of the light, the way the rain falls (or doesn't), whether it hot or cold.

Sometimes it’s not that you don’t want help. It’s that you can’t bear to be offered help that just keeps turning out not to be enough after all.

. . . it feels like I’ve been thrown down a chute. I’m careening forward, trying not to get too banged up, utterly out of control of my descent, and somewhere in the dark, there’s a hole waiting for me to fall through it.

. . . in the length of time measured by infinity, and in the size of a world measured by countless universes, is it possible to believe that our lives are anything more than a few blades of grass?

But failing isn’t proof that nothing matters or that we were fools to care. We fail even though things matter very much; it’s the possibility of failure that makes them matter even more.

The sky is a living thing when one is a desert dweller, stretched out, vast and imposing, with its constant dance of cloud and color, the visual equivalent of a movie soundtrack to one’s life.

Mrs. Monaghan says we don’t always have to say what we like and what we don’t like. We should just practice dealing with it.

...then is that not life in its simplest form? That so little matters so much, and so much matters so little.

We say ‘Thank you very much’ and ‘I so appreciate what you have done’ to people who fill our grocery bags, to people who offer us a ride across town. What are the words to say to someone who gave you back your life, who believed that you still had a soul, who acknowledged how bad it was possible to feel? Shouldn’t there be another language for this? Different words altogether? And if I use the same old words, did I change what I was trying to say? Did I make it a same old thing?