Wounds, I think, are never confined to a single skin but reach out to rasp us all. — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
“When you die, there’s that much less breath to the world, and across continents someone supposedly separate gasps for air. When Marie, Joseph, peter,… — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
“When I was a girl I loved fevers and flus and the muzzy feeling of a head cold, all these states carrying with them… — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
“Why doesn't passionate love last? how is it possible to see a person as beautiful on Monday, and 364 days later, on another Monday,… — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
“... instead of spelling stories you spread silence, which was outside the alphabet.” — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
“Finally the dawn came, the sky fringed with pink, and the sun bright as a coin in a spill of rising red.” — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
“How do you describe emptiness? Is it the air inside a bubble, the darkness in a pocket, snow? I think, yes, I was six… — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
Everyone knows that a lot of memoirs have made-up scenes; it's obvious. And everyone knows that half the time at least fictions contain literal… — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
Are psychiatric crises so overwhelming to the mind that they inhibit the presence of ethics? Is depression at root an amoral phenomenon, its focus… — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
“I had lived my life by these kinds of banners, only now, searching the sentence, I found little in it that resonated deep in… — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
Much has been said about the meanings we make of illness, but what about the meanings we make out of cure? Cure is complex,… — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
“I believe my strength has something to do with memory, with that concept of fluid time. For while I recall with clarity the terror… — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
“I couldn’t reach her. I was never able to reach her. Maybe she moved at a pace too fast. Maybe she was too sad.… — Lauren Slater Copy Share Image
