“Yet she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop writing. She was like a medium receiving messages from the dead.” — Cathy Holton Copy Share Image
“Sitting down in the evenings became a kind of torture, a bleak realization of her talents laid out against the bright shimmering fabric of her dreams. Yet she couldn’t stop, she couldn’t give up so easily. To stop writing completely… — Cathy Holton Copy Share Image
“Everyone has a different story, and you have to ask yourself what motivates people to see reality the way they do.” — Cathy Holton Copy Share Image
“Yet she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop writing. She was like a medium receiving messages from the dead.” — Cathy Holton Copy Share Image
“It was one way she had found to fill her solitary childhood, but it was more than that; the act of creation gave substance… — Cathy Holton Copy Share Image
“I can’t just open myself up the way some people can. And down here, you’re raised a certain way. You’re taught to keep some… — Cathy Holton Copy Share Image
“Sitting down in the evenings became a kind of torture, a bleak realization of her talents laid out against the bright shimmering fabric of… — Cathy Holton Copy Share Image
“Death smoothes the rough edges, obliterates the cruelties of the deceased. It makes heroes of monsters.” — Cathy Holton Copy Share Image
