Back and forth she went each morning by the river, spring arriving once again; foolish, foolish spring, breaking open its tiny buds, and what she couldnโt stand was howโfor many years, reallyโshe had been made happy by such a thing. She had not thought she would ever become immune to the beauty of the physical world, but there you were. The river sparkled with the sun that rose, enough that she needed her sunglasses.
Elizabeth StroutI actually see myself in all my characters. In order to imagine what it feels like to be another person I have to use my own experiences and responses to the world.
Elizabeth StroutI suspect the most we can hope for, and it's no small hope, is that we never give up, that we never stop giving ourselves permission to try to love and receive love.
Elizabeth Strout