“You have to find a job that makes your heart feel big instead of one that makes it feel small.” from The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid
I took this week off from work in an attempt to readjust all of the settings that are out of whack in my system, and yesterday I took our wee $50 kayak out on a nearby lake, alone.
More than pleasure, she felt relief, a relief so vast it seemed to alter the color of things in her path: the begonias halfway up Montgomery Place turned a hot, saturated pink; a cup of coffee swimming with cream was almost perverse in its beauty. It was the no longer trying so hard that drove her in those early days to near ecstasy. p 102 from The Book of V by Anna Solomon
I have tried many, many times during my life to be a runner.
The world was beautiful. It surprised me, how beautiful it kept on insisting on being. In spite of all the lies, it was beautiful. from Louisiana’s Way Home by Kate DiCamillo
So. How’s everybody doing?
“Good,” she said, and started once again to hop from one foot to the glorious other.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“Pretending I”m walking on glass.”
“Is it fun?”
“Try it if you like.”
“Okay,” I said, and I did. And it strangely was.
from When God was a Rabbit by Sarah Winman
Last night, finally, I brushed my teeth with my new sonic toothbrush and didn’t cry.
In the past few months, for the first time in his four years of graduate school, he had begun to feel that he might be at the edge of something. He had gotten to the perimeter of an idea, could feel the bounds of its questions, the depth and width of its concerns. He had been waking with the steadily resolving form of an idea in his mind, and this idea had been pulling him through the unremarkable hours, through the grit and the dull ache when he woke at nine to return to work after going to sleep at five. The thing that had been spinning in the brilliant light of the tall lab windows, like a speck or a dust mote, had been hope, had been the prospect of a moment of brief clarity. ~from Real Life by Brandon Taylor
“Okay, Wednesday,” I say in the car. No one is really listening. Except they’re always listening. “Let’s do this.”