Citas de Carolyn Parkhurst

• Durante mucho tiempo, fue sólo mi secreto. Me quemaba por dentro y sentía que llevaba algo importante, algo que me hacía ser quien era y me diferenciaba de los demás. Lo llevaba conmigo a todas partes, y no había momento en que no fuera consciente de ello. Era como si estuviera totalmente despierta, como si pudiera sentir cada terminación nerviosa de mi cuerpo. A veces casi me dolía la piel de la fuerza, de lo fuerte que era. Como si todo mi cuerpo estuviera zumbando o algo así. Me sentía casi, no sé, noble, como un caballero medieval o algo así, llevando este amor secreto conmigo.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Strong, Hurt, Knights

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2008). “Lost and Found: A Novel”, Little, Brown

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• There's no book that absolutely everyone loves.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Book, One Love

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• The conclusion I have reached is that, above all, dogs are witnesses. They are allowed access to our most private moments. They are there when we think we are alone. Think of what they could tell us. They sit on the laps of presidents. They see acts of love and violence, quarrels and feuds, and the secret play of children. If they could tell us everything they have seen, all of the gaps of our lives would stitch themselves together.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Dog, Children, Thinking

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• I've always known that the best part of writing occurs before you've picked up a pen. When a story exists only in your mind, its potential is infinite; it's only when you start pinning words to paper that it becomes less than perfect. You have to make your choices, set your limits. Start whittling away at the cosmos, and don't stop until you've narrowed it down to a single, ordinary speck of dirt. And in the end, what you've made is not nearly as glorious as what you've thrown away.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Writing, Perfect, Choices

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• It's gratifying to know that you've appeared in someone else's dreams. It's proof that you exist, in a way, proof that you have substance and value outside the walls of your own mind.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Dream, Wall, Mind

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• It's not the content of our dreams that gives our second heart its dark color; it's the thoughts that go through our heads in those wakeful moments when sleep won't come. And those are the things we never tell anyone at all.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Sueño, Corazón, Sueño

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• I wake up in that state of grief when you can tell you've been mourning even in your sleep.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Grief, Sleep, Mourning

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2010). “The Nobodies Album”, p.52, Anchor

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• Te despiertas y sientes... ¿qué? Pesadez, un dolor interior, un peso, sí. Un suave arrugamiento de la carne. Una sensación como si todas las superficies de tu interior estuvieran en carne viva. Una voz en tu cabeza... no, no son voces, no es como oír voces, nada tan loco, sólo tu propia voz interior, la que dice: "Gira a la izquierda en la esquina" o "No olvides parar en correos", sólo que ahora dice: "Me odio a mí mismo". Dice: "Quiero morir".

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Suicide, Hate, Crazy

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• I can't take one breath, not one single breath, without knowing that I love you.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Love You, Knowing, Breaths

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• Perhaps she saw before her a lifetime of walking on the ruined earth and chose instead a single moment in the air.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Air, Earth, Saws

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• ¿Cómo puede ser, me preguntaba, que podamos estar tumbados en la cama junto a una persona a la que amamos total e indefensamente, una persona a la que amamos más que a nuestro propio aliento, y que aún nos duela pensar en quien nos causó dolor hace tantos años? Es la traición de este segundo corazón nuestro, su carne atada como la punta de un dedo fuertemente enroscada con un solo pelo, teñida de azul por la falta de sangre. Su vergonzoso apretón.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Pain, Betrayal, Lying

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• Sometimes I wonder how we can be so sure what it is God sees. How arrogant we are, I sometimes think, to imagine there's someone watching us every minute. To think our every action matters that much.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Thinking, Arrogant, Matter

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2008). “Lost and Found: A Novel”, Little, Brown

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• The simplest thing that can be said about any person, any relationship, is that it's not simple at all.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Simple, Said, Simplest

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2010). “The Nobodies Album”, p.165, Anchor

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• Era septiembre, y había una sensación de crujido en el aire. Yo estaba diciendo algo que la estaba haciendo reír, y no podía dejar de mirarla. Hacía un poco de frío, y sus mejillas estaban rosadas, y su pelo oscuro le caía alrededor de la cara. Lo único que quería el resto de mi vida era seguir haciéndola reír así. A veces nuestros brazos se rozaban mientras caminábamos, y era como si pudiera sentir el contacto durante minutos después de que ocurriera.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Dark, Hair, Laughing

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• I'm not going to feel guilty for wanting the things that everyone wants.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Want, Guilty, Feels

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• It's true, isn't it, that each of us has two hearts? The secret heart, curled behind like a fist, living gnarled and shrunken beneath the plain, open one we use every day.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Heart, Two, Secret

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• All this to say: I am forty-three years old. I may yet live another forty. What do I do with those years? How do I fill them without Lexy? When I come to tell the story of my life, there will be a line, creased and blurred and soft with age, where she stops. If I win the lottery, if I father a child, if I lose the use of my legs, it will be after she has finished knowing me. "When I get to Heaven", my grandmother used to say, widowed at thirty-nine, "your grandfather won't even recognize me.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Children, Father, Grandmother

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• I remember my wife in white.' It just made people weep to hear it...Everybody just thought it was the saddest sentence that was ever written. And it didn't matter if I never wrote another word. This one sentence had put an end to the need for any future sentences. I had said it all.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  White, People, Wife

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• There would be hard times, but what did I care if we had hard times? The branches of my love were wide, and they caught the rain and the snow. We would be okay, the two of us together. We would be okay.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Rain, Hard Times, Two

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• Because for most of us, suicide is a moment we'll never choose. It's only for people like Lexy, who know they might choose eventually, who believe they have a choice to make.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Suicidio, Creer, Gente

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• Si hubiera sabido ayer lo que sé hoy, te habría quitado tus dos ojos grises y puesto ojos de arcilla. Y si hubiera sabido ayer que ya no serías mía, te habría quitado tu corazón de carne y puesto uno de piedra.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Taken, Heart, Eye

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel: A Novel”, p.31, Hachette UK

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• The conclusion I have reached is that, above all, dogs are witnesses.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Dog, Feuds, Conclusion

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• I sing of a woman with ink on her hands and pictures hidden beneath her hair. I sing of a dog with skin like velvet pushed the wrong way.I sing of the shape a fallen body makes in the dirt beneath a tree, and I sing of an ordinary man who is wanted to know things no human being could tell him.This is the true beginning.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Dog, Men, Hair

  Carolyn Parkhurst (2003). “The Dogs of Babel”, Large Print Press

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• Lavando a los muertos es una novela esclarecedora y de intrincadas capas sobre los complicados legados que pasan de madres a hijas, y sobre el modo en que la comprensión de nuestra propia historia nos ayuda a ser quienes somos. Michelle Brafman es una escritora perspicaz que nunca flaquea en su búsqueda de los corazones de sus personajes.

  Carolyn Parkhurst

  Hija, Madre, Corazón

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