Quotes from Alice Hoffman

I think of life as a book of stories, he goes on. You move through the stories and the characters change.

What initially drew him to anatomy he felt once again on this leafy path: the sheer abundance of life, the heat of it, the connection of things, the mat of roots under the soil, so like blood and bones, the wild potato vines like arteries, the honeybees' hive, so like a heart. If he could take one thing with him to eternity, it would be the way he felt right now.

This cannot harm you on this day. When you walk, you walk away. When you return, all your enemies will burn.

THE WOMEN FROM THE congregation might appear delicate and ladylike, but on this island strength was a necessity. Most of these women could climb onto a roof before a storm to make certain that the shutters at every window were bolted shut, they could cook over an outdoor fire, kill chickens and wild waterfowl, do what they must should the tolerance of our people fade in yet another country.

Writers don't choose their craft; they need to write in order to face the world.

Why don't you prepare the tea for us," Madame Cohen suggested. This was a part of the interview. People did background checks and extensive questionnaires, but you could tell a great deal more about someone from the way they readied a pot of tea.

Sally went off, surprised that she could no longer pick up the scent of water as witches always could. There was always a price to pay, she knew that. You didn't have to be cursed in love to know that when you loved someone you were open to great loss.

You don't hide what you think is beautiful. You hide what is broken. You hide when you're a monster.

She feels her love inside her as if it were as tangible as blood and bones. They'll

Should I judge myself?" she ventured to ask. "Or should I leave that to the Almighty, who forgives us all for being what He made us?

What he was doing was actually a hundred times worse. He was telling her that he loved her, something he hadn't mentioned and may not have even known when they were married. She used to whisper it to him sometimes, while he was fucking her, and he had to turn off his mind every time she did that. For some reason that declaration had seemed like a curse to him back then; he couldn't even hear it spoken aloud

Have you ever felt that you lost something, and you can't get it back? As though it's been stolen right out from under you? Sure, the barman said. It's called life.

The water is wide, I cannot get o'er it And neither have I wings to fly Give me a boat that will carry two And both shall row, my Love and I.

When men were interested, they had a faraway look, as if they were trying to figure out their attraction. Was it a dream, or was it real? Did they want a woman, body and soul, or was it only the body that appealed to them? Sometimes it took them a while to figure it out, sometimes only minutes.

He wasn't the first man she'd been with, and that hadn't been Bill back home either. It had been a boy she met on holiday when she was fifteen. She had decided it was time for her to have sex, the way someone else might decide it was time to get a driver's license, and she'd gone ahead with it. Pragmatic, that's the way she'd always been.

In their estimation Gillian was young and stupid and would get herself pregnant in record time—all the prerequisites for a miserable and ordinary life.

Of course, you cannot tame bees the way you can horses; they were not our sisters in that way. But you can live alongside them, Queen to Queen, warrior to warrior. You can learn from their sisterhood: how they follow their Queen no matter what, how battle is nothing to them, how they enter into it freely and fight to the death.

It was the first of many marital disasters, but on the night she eloped anything seemed possible, even happiness.

Sometimes you think you know what's going to happen next, and then the world surprises you

It was easy to lie to people who still believed in the truth. Only days afterward, each person who had filled out this list was deported to a death camp.

I wondered if damaged people ever got over what damaged them.

It was best not to mention the changes that might have occurred, the black hair, for instance, the vacant stares. Best to wrap your arms around the person who'd been missing, for an enchantment is a step out of ordinary life, and when that person returns nothing is the same, not her image in the mirror, not the lines across her palm.

Some things, however, are true no matter how hard you might try to block them out and a lie is always a lie no matter how prettily told.

The aunts are so old it's impossible to tell their age. Their hair is white and their spines are crooked. They wear long black skirts and laced leather boots. Though they haven't left Massachusetts in more than forty years, they're certainly not intimidated by travel. Or anything else, for that matter. They know what they want and they're not afraid to be outspoken.