“Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, at high speed, her eyes fixed on the road, Abigail asked, a little loudly above the hum, 'Do you think that neurosis is when you lie to yourself so much that other people start to… — Lindsay Hill Copy Share
“Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, at high speed, her eyes fixed on the road, Abigail asked, a little loudly above the hum, 'Do you think that neurosis is when you lie to yourself so much that other people start to notice?' Christopher, who'd been looking through the blurred bridge railing down to the boats on the bay, turned and responded,… — Lindsay Hill Copy Share
“Grief keeps coming back with the same things in its hands — you know this. You know that the hands of grief are memory.… — Lindsay Hill Copy Share Image
“And he came to understand that the burial of the broken wasn't eccentric — this was what people did every day, stuffing their brokenness… — Lindsay Hill Copy Share Image
