I kept the fingers of my left hand crossed all the time, while on my right-hand fingers I counted anything at allโsteps to the refrigerator, seconds on the clock, words in a sentenceโto keep my head occupied. The counting felt like something to hang on to, as if finding the right numbers might somehow crack the code on whatever system ran the slippery universe we were moving through.
Mary KarrBut I'm not ready to stop listening to the screwed-up inner voice that's been ordering me around for a lifetime. My head thinks it can kill me... and go on living without me.
Mary KarrPoetry is for me Eucharistic. You take someone else's suffering into your body, their passion comes into your body, and in doing that you commune, you take communion, you make a community with others.
Mary Karr