A child who's been injured by a parent waits her whole life for some acknowledgment of the wrong that's been done, some validation from him that her pain is real, that he's sorry and will make amends. The child will… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
My uncle Max was a mountain, a shooting star, a big bear of a man, a piggyback ride waiting to happen, his pockets full of candy and, later money, or whatever the particular currency of our ages happened to be.… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
“When they’re small, they’re part of you, on you in bed, showering with you, climbing onto your lap, holding on to your leg. Slowly,… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
“We hate our parents for having their own lives, don’t we, for making decisions for themselves that don’t seem to take us into account.… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
“Depression is not dramatic, but it is total. It’s sneaky - you almost don’t notice it at first. Like a cat burglar, it comes… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
“...in the end it's not just the big and small events that make you who you are, make your life what it is, it's… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
The Universe doesn't like secrets. It conspires to reveal the truth, to lead you to it. — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
“We have more patience for girls who act like boys than boys who act like girls. A tomboy is considered cute. One day she’ll… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
Writers are first and foremost observers. We lose ourselves in the watching and then the telling of the world we find. Often we feel… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
I loved him so much. It didn't change all the reasons we couldn't be together, but it kept me returning to his body, kept… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
It was a strange lightness, a drifting feeling. Zero gravity. I understood that everything that once seemed solid and immovable might just float away.… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
Of course, like all organic processes, there is an ebb and a flow to writing. One does not exist without the other. The writer… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
When you start to really know someone, all his physical characteristics start to disappear. You begin to dwell in his energy, recognize the scent… — Lisa Unger Copy Share Image
