Best 10 quotes of Stasia Ward Kehoe on MyQuotes

Stasia Ward Kehoe

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    Stasia Ward Kehoe

    Dare I tell them that since I came here to dance I have been giving pieces of my body away To ridiculous diets, To repeated injuries, To Remington? And that maybe I think With each bit of my body I lose a little piece of my soul

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    Stasia Ward Kehoe

    Does it matter that people and things Have words, Have names? If not, Why read any book? A litany of useless letters Detached from bone, muscle. Or are words the only things that make the muscle, bone, memory, movement, Person Real?

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    Stasia Ward Kehoe

    Do I dare ask him for what I want, As if I knew it, Could find it on some page In some chapter In some book?

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    Stasia Ward Kehoe

    Four laughs vibrate in harmony, Warm Delicious Real.

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    Stasia Ward Kehoe

    I calculate the breadth of Steven's shoulders, now wider than mine; watch him tear open the Blokus game he likes to play with me after school; count the hours between now and Dad coming home to take over and I am only a little afraid of the night.

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    Stasia Ward Kehoe

    I feel his arm Lightly Over me. He takes one of my outstretched hands. Draws it beneath my stomach. "One more time..." This is not sex, Not friendship. Something Strange Special In the stillness of his breath, The waterlike way he moves. He is making a dance. We are making a dance.

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    Stasia Ward Kehoe

    I play the music of Steven for Steven; ragged, helpless, it owns me, enveloping me with an incomprehensible love -

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    Stasia Ward Kehoe

    I've a long time trying to love a brother whose only way of touching me is pain. A long time escaping into music. Practice, lessons, rehearsals that protect me from the hurting parts of life. I've been winning awards, applause, acclaim for my trumpets since I was in grade school. But love? The word catches in my throat. Do I love anything? Have i forgotten how?

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    Stasia Ward Kehoe

    Maybe he, like me, is engaged in the kind of unspoken rebellion you don't want to perform too brightly since you're never certain anyone in your family will notice your darkened eyes, skeleton shoes, tousled hair, patchy attendance record. You may be sacrificing body and soul on a ghostly battlefield, fighting across a divide seen by no one but you.

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    Stasia Ward Kehoe

    The tips of my overgrown bangs dip into the wet of my tears. My fingers, forehead, moisten with sweat. I fight the slipperiness, press the valves firmly, play the love, the hate, the misery, the hope, the freedom that I wanted, never wanted, can't have; that doesn't exist.