“You know, babe." Her voice had an older woman's weary advice in it. "You're so hungry. You want so much." "Well." Flannery shrugged. "So what? I'll never get it." "You might. If you stop asking." "I'll never stop asking." "I… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
The gap between the inner and outer self is one I've found interesting, even essential, about the way we move through the world. In… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
Those who are apparently absent can feel more present than the people right in front of you. — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“We will never be together. Sweetheart. I am too brittle, hidden, and snappish, and you are too married. You are altogether too married.” — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“He wants me back." The closing punctuation of "obviously" hung in the air. The confidence in her! Anne would always have it: the certainty… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“Such nights are possible, and we survive them. It is a matter of sleeping next to the adored body you no longer have the… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“And how easy it was to leave this life, after all - this life that could feel so present and permanent that departing from… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
It could not always be love in the afternoon and passion in the night, gifts given, notes written, meals fed to each other. It… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“She'd have to start smoking. There would be no other way through this.” — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“I've been called promiscuous. Not a pretty word, is it? Makes you think of the gloop that comes out of your nose or what… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“The heart did ache, actually. She felt a dull grind of lack somewhere near her diaphragm, a pain that occupied the space of something… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
“Flannery had loved Anne truly. And truthfully. She had seen Anne clearly, not covered with the reflective glitter a person acquires if you view… — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
No wonder you want to be a writer. How can you not, with all that behind you? You practically are a novel already. — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
This was another item about growing up: you encountered all the cliches of love and loss and heartbreak. — Sylvia Brownrigg Copy Share Image
