115 Quotes by Sara Baume

This morning, I see the lead in my glass tumbler. A slim, bright glint, a silverfish. I feel it collecting in my blood, papercutting the lining of my veins.

I knew precisely what things I wanted to do—and when and why—and I was deeply resentful of other people's attempts to enforce structure on my days.

I see foxes often, but always they are crossing fallow fields in the distance. Gold flecks on faraway expanses of green. Magnetic to the meandering eye. Enigmatic, unreachable.

I open my eyes to find the morning adjourned.

Only the lighted houses remaining, the lemon blush of their inhabited windows.

I love that an idea can be so powerful it doesn't matter whether I've seen the artwork for real or not.

My only chance is to pretend it's a day like any other; to keep the despair only as great as on all the others.

I know with unqualified certainty that I want to die. But I also know with equivalent certainty that I won't do anything about it. That I will only remain here and wait for death to indulge me.

I look at the cake in my mother's arms and think: here stands the only person in the whole world who'd go to such trouble for fractious, ungrateful me.