and as flora twirled, other girls and women came through the field in all directions. our heartache poured into one another like water from cup to cup. each time i told my story, i lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain. it was that day that i knew i wanted to tell the story of my family. because horror on earth is real and it is everyday. it is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.
-the lovely bones - alice sebold
this book was some sort of awfulness to read. it contained the horror of earth for split seconds all throughout. each time i would start to read a part which i found particularly difficult, i would have to remind myself that what i am reading right now, my emotional investing is with a fictional character. it would never really work all that well..which to me is the mark of a great story and a great author.