[b]Lisa Scottoline
She had lived long enough to learn that families didn’t dissolve or reconfigure neatly, but left debris lying everywhere, and it was human debris. And sometimes, like tonight, she felt as if she were tripping over the bodies.[/b]
Debris. That’s me alright.
She’d believed in forever in her twenties, when Gray had said it, meaning every word, and she’d believed in forever in her thirties, when William had said it, lying through his teeth. But she’d lived long enough to know that forever couldn’t be guaranteed to anyone. Even tomorrow couldn’t be relied upon.
And then, eventually, any minute now.
Don’t think on what they say, because you don’t have to get yourself right with them. You have to get yourself right with you.
You know, if you’re still foolish enough to believe you can.
…life wouldn’t be as much fun if we knew where its treasures were hidden. Sometimes you had to search for them. Sometimes you had to fight for them. And sometimes, they were at your feet.
Like fun is the point of it.
Celebrities are our heroes and heroines now, discussed the next day over latte or lunch. We have such a strong need to talk to each other, to have some commonality of story, that we’re finding it in celebrities. In effect, we’re turning reality into fiction. Using actors and actresses, just off duty. And how is this working for us? Not great. It leaves us with a perennially empty feeling. We find the celebrities empty, and at some level, we find ourselves empty for paying them so much attention.
I know, he thought, let’s change that.
See the child, not the cancer. Then you’ll be happy when you visit, not sad.
Just don’t expect this to always work.