Best 10 quotes of Lucia Berlin on MyQuotes

Aunque nos conociéramos... hacíamos como si no. Esperábamos en la cola, mientras las otras compraban jarabe para la tos de hidrato de terpina con codeína y firmaban en el aparatoso libro de registro. A veces con el nombre verdadero, a veces con uno inventado. Me daba cuenta de que, igual que yo, tampoco sabían cuál de las dos cosas era peor. A veces veía a la misma mujer en cuatro o cinco farmacias distintas en un solo día. Mujeres o madres de adictos.

By late afternoon I'm ready to strangle Riva Chirenko's daughter. I don't know her name. Nobody calls her Mrs. Tomanovich. She's Mr. Tomanovich's wife. Riva's daughter. Irena Tomanovich's mother. She's what's wrong with all of us women, that schleppe from the steppe. But at other times it is this same woman, Riva Chirenko's daughter, that I respect, revere. If I could only accept as she has done, just accept. Acceptance is faith, Henry Miller said. I could strangle him too.

Hay cosas de las que la gente nunca habla. No me refiero a las cosas difíciles, como el amor, sino a las más bochornosas, como por ejemplo que los funerales a veces son divertidos o que es emocionante ver arder un edificio. El funeral de Michael fue maravilloso.

I'll bet the Catholic Church lost out on a lot of would-be nuns when they started dressing like ordinary meter maids.

It has been seven years since you died. Of course what I'll say next is that time has flown by. I got old. All of a sudden, de repente. I walk with difficulty. I even drool. I leave the door unlocked in case I die in my sleep, but it's more likely I'll go endlessly on until I get put away someplace. I am already dotty.... It's not so strange that I talk to my cat but I feel silly because he is totally deaf.

Los borrachos están indefectiblemente solos. Los suicidas vienen acompañados al menos por otra persona, en general varias más. Que tal vez era la idea en un principio. Mínimo dos agentes de la policía de Oakland. Al final he entendido por qué el suicidio se considera delito.

My tears were for my own loneliness, my own blindness.

On the way to Washington Square she thought to herself that some kid would probably fall off the slide and cut his lip. Later, in the park, Matt fell from the swing and cut his lip. Cassandra held a Kleenex to the cut, fought back her own tears. What's the matter with me? What more do I want? God, let me just see the good things. She forced herself to look around, out of herself, and, in fact, the cherry blossoms were in bloom.They had been coming out little by little, but it was that day they were lovely. Then, as if because she saw the trees, the fountain turned on. Look, Mama! Matt cried and began to run. All the children and their mothers ran to the sparkling fountain. The postman walked right by it as usual. He seemed not to notice that it was on, got wet by the spray. One/two. One/two.

Sally wasn't crying about their dead mother or her cancer. She was crying because her husband, Alfonso, had left her after twenty years for a young woman. It seemed a brutal thing to do, just after her mastectomy. She was devastated, but no, she wouldn't ever divorce him, even though the woman was pregnant and he wanted to marry her. "They can just wait until I die. I'll be dead soon, probably next year..." Sally wept but the ocean drowned out the sound.

Una cosa sé de la muerte. Cuanto "mejor" es la persona, cuanto más cariñosa, feliz y comprensiva, menor es el vacío que deja su muerte.