Quotes from Luanne Rice

Children abandoned by the universe—and that was how it felt to those whose mothers went away or died young—always spent their lives seeking perfect, intense union. Anything less felt like a failure. Stevie thought about all the pain that quest had caused herself and others.

Do you still like roast lamb? You always loved the way I cooked it, with lots of rosemary from the garden." "And you'd make your mint sauce," Clea said with a slight smile.

Mexico—and I'm sure identifying

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard lie down with the kid, and a little child shall lead them.

But they'd been blocked by the trauma, a force field created by the violence of that day, impermeable to words. Each of them occupied her own dark solitude; feelings could break through, but language couldn't.

there was a fold between them—a wrinkle in their relationship, in their universe—and it was big, and came between them.

Well, I left him in my room so my mother wouldn't see him." " 'Cause you hadn't convinced her to let you keep him yet," Mark said reasonably. "Did you leave the cats to keep him company?" "Yes," Augusta said. "And did they become best friends?" Maripat asked, happily sensing the end of the story. "No," Augusta said, knowing she was in too deep. "He ate them.

I've learned the hard way," she said, holding Jonathan's letter, "that people aren't always what they seem to be at first." "But sometimes they are," Sam said.

The secrets of Newport, Clea thought. The way money and power could buy a way out of any trouble and into someone else's fortune. All that was really necessary was luck and a complete lack of conscience.

Cat limbs all over the floor, chewed to the bone." "Mew-Mew, Licorice!" Maripat cried. Tearfully, Augusta told them about Tiny grinning at the end of Augusta's bed, covered with blood. His little tongue hanging out, a demoniacal mask on his face, his fangs dripping with blood as he sprang for her throat just before she slammed the door shut.

Wadsworth Atheneum.

Broken hearts never grow back together," Quinn whispered. "They never really get fixed—don't let anyone tell you they do. But I believe that if you're lucky, you find the right things in life to let you live with one.

Answers were temporary; the question was constant. Women knew that better than men, she thought. Maybe it had to do with the way moon took hold of their bodies, pulling the like the tides...In that way women learned that life was a mystery, and that something bigger than they were was in charge.

Why do you always talk about death?" "Because it's part of us," Quinn said softly "Part of our lives.

Childe Hassam.

Justice was its own art, shining light into the shadows, complex yet ultimately as simple as can be: bringing balance, making things right. Helping women know that their experience, no matter how horrific, was their strength. It showed them that they were their own superheroes.

She upset the kids. She told them a really awful story about a pet she had when she was little." "How bad could a pet story be?" "Well," Clea said, knowing this fell in the "only in our family" category, "it eviscerated her cats and could have killed my mother in her sleep. I'd say that's good for a few nightmares, wouldn't you?

I therefore defer to the woman in the front row. 'Heart' is also correct. In that, the body of any creature is a road map for all of its experiences, and therefore the sound of Aptenodytes foresteri's call is imprinted upon its mate's heart.

People—even impetuous children—don't set out to ruin their lives, but sometimes parents can see their children making enormous mistakes from a long way away, just like dark clouds bringing a storm across the sea.

Mustard seeds mean faith," she had said. "All you need is the tiniest bit for it to sprout and grow. And you can do anything with faith. . . .

There were certain rules in life that had to be adhered to. You simply couldn't come between a person and his child. That would be selfish and unforgivable.

moonstones. The pebbles had glistened in the wet sand, opalescent in late-day amber light, lighting their path like tiny fallen moons.

Rigidity of thought is a trap too many of us fall into. . . .

life was in the moment, and love was in the moment, where ever you happen to be.