Quotes from Sue Monk Kidd

Quem acha que morrer é a pior coisa do mundo não sabe nada sobre a vida.

The echo of one of God's deepest truths: delight can emerge from and exist along with our scars.

We're all yearning for a wedge of sky, aren't we? I suspect God plants these yearnings in us so we'll at least try and change the course of things. We must try, that's all.

We had a signal. When I turned the pail upside down by the kitchen house, that meant everything was clear. Mauma would open the window and throw down a taffy she stole from missus' room. Sometimes here came a bundle of cloth scraps—real nice calicos, gingham, muslin, some import linen. One time, that true brass thimble. Her favorite thing to take was scarlet-red thread. She would wind it up in her pocket and walk right out the house with it.

If you must err, do so on the side of audacity. That was the little slogan I'd devised for myself. For

Men's resistance often grows out of their fear--fear that everything is going to change, that women's gain is their loss, that women will 'turn the tables on them.' Men need to become aware, but blaming them doesn't help. It only polarizes. Eventually I came to see that what's need is to invite them into our struggle, to make them part of our quest.

She'd been boiled down to a good, strong broth. Her hair was loose, dangling along the sides

I fall and there ain't no wings sprouting off my shoulders.

I recall a story I love about Jung. One of his students came to him and asked: Professor, could you please tell me the shortest distance to my life goal? Without hesitation Jung replied, The detour.

Leaning back on my elbows, I slid down till the water sealed over my head. I held my breath and listened to the scratch of river against my ears, sinking as far as I could into that shimmering, dark world.

when it's time to die, go ahead and die, and when it's time to live, live. Don't sort-of-maybe live, but live like you're going all out, like you're not afraid.

escape her own father as well. Seizing the moment, she springs Rosaleen from jail, and the two set out across South

Which end of the needle are you going to be- the side held by string or the point that pierces the cloth?

You could say I'd never had a true religious moment… But I had such a moment right then, standing in my own ordinary room. I heard a voice say, Lily Melissa Owens, your jar is open.

It was the time of year when migrating crows wheeled across the sky, thunderous flocks that moved like a single veil, and I heard them, out there in the wild chirruping air. Turing to the window, I watched the birds fill the sky before disappearing, and when the air was still again, I watched the empty place where they had been.

Do not leave it to fate. You must be the one who does the resurrecting.

Look at you child, look what he's done to you, she said. My knees had been tortured like this enough times in my life that I'd stopped thinking of it as out of the ordinary; it was just something you had to put up with from time to time, like the common cold. But suddenly the look on Rosaleen's face cut through all that. Look what he's done to you.

I realized it for the first time: there is nothing but mystery in the world, how it hides behind the fabric of our poor, browbeat days, shining brightly, and we don't even know it.

The body knows things a long time before the mind catches up to them.

Meekness. It isn't meekness I need, it's anger." I'd not forgotten this. I knelt beside my friend.

When she talks about her feelings, I have to consciously tell myself she wants me to receive them, not fix them.

They provided me with some real nice sympathy, with the feeling I was exceptional. I was the girl abandoned by her mother. I was the girl who kneeled on grits. What a special case I was.

Loss takes up inside of everything sooner or later and eats right through

I wanted to know what happened when two people felt it. Would it divide the hurt in two, make it lighter to bear, the way feeling someone's joy seemed to double it? Rosaleen