I think that the whole child welfare system has to be totally taken apart and built up again. Have an agency just specifically for those follow-up cases.
Short on money, long on hope
Norah watched him, serious and utterly absorbed in his task, overcome by the simple fact of his existence.
No one could suspect the intricate mysteries of her heart.
This is what he knew that Paul didn't: the world was precarious and sometimes cruel. He'd had to fight hard to achieve what Paul simply took for granted.
You can't stop time. You can't capture light. You can only turn your face up and let it rain down.
The city of Pittsburgh gleaming suddenly before her . . . so startling in its vastness and its beauty that she had gasped and slowed, afraid of losing control of the car
A fear Paul had transformed all these years, like a gifted alchemist, into anger and rebellion.
The challenges in this place are real and sometimes very difficult, but I've learned to slow down and look for beauty in my days, for the mysteries and blessings woven into everything, into the very words we speak.
That there were other worlds, invisible, unknown, beyond imagination even, was a revelation to him.
She saw herself moving through another life, an exotic, difficult, satisfying life.
...bleak territory of the heart.
Music is like you touch the pulse of the world. Music is always happening, and sometimes you get to touch it for a while, and when you do you know that everything's connetcted to everything else.
He wished he had some kind of X-ray vision for the human heart.
Norah looked at her son’s tiny face, surprised, as always, by his name. he had not grown into it yet, he still wore it like a wrist band, something that might easily slip off and disappear. She had read about people – where? she could not remember this either – who refused to name their children for several weeks, feeling them to be not yet of the earth, suspended still between two worlds.
In some deep place in her heart, Caroline had kept alive the silly romantic notion that somehow David Henry had once known her as no one else ever could. But it was not true. He had never even glimpsed her.
Lately, the world felt fragile, like a blown egg, as if it might shatter beneath a careless touch.
Twin threads ran through her: fear and excitement.
It's good to be in love.
My first job was in a nursing home - a terrible place in retrospect. It was in an old house, and the residents were so lonely. People rarely visited them. I only stayed there a couple of months, but it made a strong impression on me.
Each letter has a shape, she told them, one shape in the world and no other, and it is your responsibility to make it perfect.
He carried Paul inside and up the stairs. He gave him a drink of water and the orange chewable aspirin he like and sat with him on the bed, holding his hand...This was what he yearned to capture on film: these rare moments where the world seemed unified, coherent, everything contained in a single fleeting image. A spareness that held beauty and hope and motion - a kind of silvery poetry, just as the body was poetry in blood and flesh and bone.
Then she had been a fiancee, a young wife, and a mother, and she had discovered that these words were far too small ever to contain the experience.
Though Lexington is not a small town, it sometimes feels like one, with circles of acquaintance overlapping once, then again; the person you meet by chance at the library or the pool may turn out to be the best friend of your down-the-street neighbor. Maybe thats why people are so friendly here, so willing to be unhurried.
There was something not quite right about her eagerness, an eerie kind of voyeurism in her need for bad news.
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