Everybody breaks sooner or later, Bob. Anyone can drown. Sometimes you see it. Most often, you don’t because the body protects and… — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
They call it the drowning instinct. It's when drowning doesn't look like drowning. (pg. 241) — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
“They call it the drowning instinct. It´s when drowning doesn´t look like drowning. In real life, if the water´s very cold, a… — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
“They call it the drowning instinct. It's when drowning doesn't look like drowning.” — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
She's got the kind of ethereal, unselfconscious beauty some young girls possess that breaks your heart. Or theirs. — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
But sticking to rules just because they're there does not make them right. You need to learn when the rules should be broken. — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
“...she said all writers were prima donnas, drunks, social misfits, pompous, or depressed. Brilliant, maybe, but completely crazy.” — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
“Thinking about all that was exhausting. Despite the hours I‘d spent getting shrink-wrapped, I still wasn‘t sold that talking did a whole heck of… — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
“What you couldn't see and only imagined was always scarier than what was real.” — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
“I´d never heard a man cry before, Bob, but...it´s awful. (...) I think some man aren´t used to it and don´t know what to… — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
Everybody breaks sooner or later, Bob. Anyone can drown. Sometimes you see it. Most often, you don’t because the body protects and the skin… — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
“What about study hall? Shouldn't I go to the library? "What for, Ms. Lord?" Mr. anderson said. "You're with me” — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
As a doc, though, I've seen what happens when people are under a lot of stress. Doesn't always bring out their best. When people… — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
“It was that stages-of-anger thing. I was shocked and then I got pissed and then I fought like hell … and then I went… — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
Why can't you like me?" he said, his voice breaking. His scent steamed then, hot and heady with a welter of contradictions: apples and… — Ilsa J. Bick Copy Share Image
