Sunday, February 20, 2011

bees.


'"We walked into the night, into the blurring song of katydids, the thud-splat of raindrops on the umbrella, all those terrible rhythms that take up inside when you let your guard down. Left you, they drummed. Left you. Left you.
Knowing can be a curse on a person's life. I'd traded in a pack of lies for a pack of truth, and I didn't know which one was heavier. Which one took the most strength to carry around? It was a ridiculous question, though, because once you know the truth, you can't ever go back and pick up your suitcase of lies. Heavier or not, the truth is yours now.
In the honey house, August waited until I crawled under the sheets, then bent over and kissed my forehead.
"Every person on the face of the earth makes mistakes, Lily. Every last one. We're all so human. Your mother made a terrible mistake, but she tried to fix it."
"Good night," I said, and rolled onto my side.
"There is nothing perfect," August said from the doorway. "There is only life."'

- The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.

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