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Life is not a paragraph, and death is no parenthesis. (This is a reference to an E.E. Cummings poem within the author's work)
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Paula Hawkins |
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She must be very secure in herself, I suppose, in them, for it not to bother her, to walk where another woman has walked before. She obviously doesn't think of me as a threat. I think about Ted Hughes, moving Assia Wevill into the home he'd shared with Plath, of her wearing Sylvia's clothes, brushing her hair with the same brush. I want to ring Anna up and remind her that Assia ended up with her head in the oven, just like Sylvia did.
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Paula Hawkins |
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We now know that memories are not fixed or frozen, like Proust's jars of preserves in a larder, but are transformed, disassembled, reassembled, and recategorized with every act of recollection. --Oliver Sacks, Hallucinations
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Paula Hawkins |
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We now know that memories are not fixed or frozen, like Proust's jars of preserves n a larder, but transformed, disassembled, reassembled, and recategorised with every act of recollection. ~Hallucinations, Oliver Sacks
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Paula Hawkins |