Emma, Emma, Emma," I said, wishing I could somehow teach her to take the smaller blows of life in her stride.

Emma, Emma, Emma," I said, wishing I could somehow teach her to take the smaller blows of life in her stride.

Jane Hamilton
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Similar Quotes by jane-hamilton

She could never be part of so much of his turbulent history, his youthful adventure, where life had been deeply felt.

Jane Hamilton
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He wondered if somewhere far off, defying the laws of science, Mitch's two screams were still echoing, if those vibrations had traveled into space, if they moved on and on like rays in a light-year. There might be other forms of life who were receiving the noise and trying to interpret the tones.

Jane Hamilton
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...you have to learn where your pain is. You have to burrow down and find the wound, and if the burden of it is too terrible to shoulder, you have to shout it out; you have to shout for help... And then finally, the way through grief is grieving.

Jane Hamilton
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She read books quickly and compulsively, paperback after paperback, as if she might drift away without the anchor of the printed page.

Jane Hamilton
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It is books that are a key to the wide world; if you can't do anything else, read all that you can.

Jane Hamilton
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Emma, Emma, Emma," I said, wishing I could somehow teach her to take the smaller blows of life in her stride.

Jane Hamilton, A Map of the World
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Sometimes I couldn't figure it out, what all the living was for.

Jane Hamilton, The Book of Ruth
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I didn't know how to tell him that I hadn't lost the instinct to survive and yet at the same time I didn't feel much need for self-preservation, that somehow there was a distinction between the two.

Jane Hamilton, A Map of the World
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I have given up on speech with the Rev; there is no use explaining that you have to learn where your pain is. You have to burrow down and find the wound, and if the burden of it is too terrible to shoulder you have to shout it out; you have to shout for help. My trust, even down in that dark place I carry, is that some person will come running. And then finally the way through grief is grieving.

Jane Hamilton, The Book of Ruth
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...the other's self, that enormous hulking thing each possessed, that a self of course is not inconsequential. p124

Jane Hamilton, The Excellent Lombards
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