21 Quotes by Sage Steadman

That, after all, is what the great stories are written about: How people manage to find themselves in love. Well let me just say that how a person falls in love is more important than who they fall in love with, for to truly fall in love with someone else, you must first fall in love with yourself. The process a person goes through to break down his or her outer shell and let love in is often as miraculous as the mystery of falling in love.

Nothing monumental happened, the earth didn’t shake, and lightning didn’t strike. There was just a simple moment of raw emotion, unbridled and exposed to the daylight.

He was not being courageous as he bore the freezing stream for his wife and children. He simply chose between the lesser of two evils—the pain and suffering he would endure in the river, a physical pain that he could stand to bear, or the pain and suffering he would feel if he had to watch his family wade across and freeze. It was not a decision. The choice had already been made the moment Ole proposed marriage to his wife and welcomed these beautiful daughters into the world.

They left their encampment with dirt-covered linen strewn about the abandoned grounds amongst clothes, shoes, children’s toys and other discarded belongings. The handcart wheels crunched over them, and the dry wheels screamed as the Willie Company started for Zion.

Her sadness was like a deep well just beneath the surface of her determination.

The boy’s skeletal frame was now all that remained of him, and through his flesh could be seen the steady beat of his indomitable heart.

Jacob offered Ann pot, this time from a bowl. She shook her head no.“You gotta keep doing it and eventually it will start to feel good, and your body will adapt,” he encouraged. It was the same thing her mom’s yoga instructor had said to her once and her answer was the same both times.

Ann did detention like Whitney Houston did cocaine—frequently and without consideration of the consequences.

She considered what had made Denmark home to her anyway. Was it the sense of familiarity? That wherever she went there were echoes of a hundred memories she could pluck from her thoughts?