Murderers are not monsters, they're men. And that's the most frightening thing about them.
Alice SeboldAs she brought prospective buyers through, the realtor said it was an oil stain, but it was me, seeping out of the bag.
Alice SeboldI knew something as I watched: almost everyone was saying goodbye to me. I was becoming one of the many little-girl-losts. They would go back to their homes and put me to rest, a letter from the past never to be reopened or reread. And I could say goodbye to them, wish them well, bless them somehow for their good thoughts. A handshake in the street, a dropped item picked up and retrieved and handed back, or a friendly wave from the distant window, a nod, a smile, a moment when the eyes lock over the antics of a child.
Alice Sebold