“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 Image
“Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, at high speed, her eyes fixed on the road, Abigail asked, a little loudly above the hum, 'Do you… — Lindsay Hill Copy Share Image
“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
