Olive Kitteridge

Daisy said, in a melodious voice.

The appetites of the body were private battles.

“God, I love young people,” Harmon said. “They get griped about enough. People like to think the younger generation’s job is to steer the world to hell. But it’s never true, is it? They’re hopeful and good—and that’s how it should be.”

“I don’t know as anyone’s got a corner on the market of that stuff, no matter what people say they believe, or don’t.”

She would like to say this to Suzanne. She would like to say, Listen, Dr. Sue, deep down there is a thing inside me, and sometimes it swells up like the head of a squid and shoots blackness through me. I haven’t wanted to be this way, but so help me, I have loved my son.

Of course, right now their sex life is probably very exciting, and they undoubtedly think that will last, the way new couples do. They think they’re finished with loneliness, too.

Nobody knows everything—they shouldn’t think they do.

hen you build a house yourself, you’re going to have a different feeling about it than other people do.

Inside the music like this, she understood many things

oh, insane, ludicrous, unknowable world! Look how she wanted to live, look how she wanted to hold on.