His love for my mother wasn't about looking back and loving something that would never change. It was about loving my mother for everything -- for her brokenness and her fleeing, for her being there right then in that moment before the sun rose and the hospital staff came in. It was about touching that hair with the side of his fingertip, and knowing yet plumbing fearlessly the depths of her ocean eyes.
Alice SeboldHow to Commit the Perfect Murder" was an old game in heaven. I always chose the icicle: the weapon melts away.
Alice SeboldIf I had but an hour of love,if that be all that is given me,an hour of love upon this earth,I would give my love to thee.
Alice Sebold