Susan Brougher
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in Kingston, PA, The United States
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“If something inside of you is real, we will probably find it interesting, and it will probably be universal. So you must risk placing real emotion at the center of your work. Write straight into the emotional center of things. Write toward vulnerability. Risk being unliked. Tell the truth as you understand it. If you’re a writer you have a moral obligation to do this. And it is a revolutionary act—truth is always subversive.”
Anne Lamott |
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“To speak ill of others is a dishonest way of praising ourselves. . . let us be above such transparent egotism.”
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“We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, therefore, is not an act, but a habit.”
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“I fell asleep last night
to the sweet smell of lavender on my sheets
and awoke this morning
to the aroma of coffee brewing.
How much I would miss if I could not smell
the roses in my garden
or the fragrance after the rain.”
―
to the sweet smell of lavender on my sheets
and awoke this morning
to the aroma of coffee brewing.
How much I would miss if I could not smell
the roses in my garden
or the fragrance after the rain.”
―
“The sun is light and so the moon, looking from the sky on to the earth below.
The rain brings water to fill the lakes and streams, and fall upon the children running in the yard, mouths wide open to drink it in.”
― The Strongest Bond
The rain brings water to fill the lakes and streams, and fall upon the children running in the yard, mouths wide open to drink it in.”
― The Strongest Bond
“I had learned that we love each other imperfectly. It is the way it’s meant to be. And sometimes, no matter how much we love someone, it’s not enough.”
―
―
“You know, I do believe in magic. I was born and raised in a magic time, in a magic town, among magicians. Oh, most everybody else didn’t realize we lived in that web of magic, connected by silver filaments of chance and circumstance. But I knew it all along. When I was twelve years old, the world was my magic lantern, and by its green spirit glow I saw the past, the present and into the future. You probably did too; you just don’t recall it. See, this is my opinion: we all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age. Told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why we were told that? Because the people doing the telling were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad of what they’d allowed to wither in themselves.
After you go so far away from it, though, you can’t really get it back. You can have seconds of it. Just seconds of knowing and remembering. When people get weepy at movies, it’s because in that dark theater the golden pool of magic is touched, just briefly. Then they come out into the hard sun of logic and reason again and it dries up, and they’re left feeling a little heartsad and not knowing why. When a song stirs a memory, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light takes your attention from the world, when you listen to a train passing on a track at night in the distance and wonder where it might be going, you step beyond who you are and where you are. For the briefest of instants, you have stepped into the magic realm.
That’s what I believe.
The truth of life is that every year we get farther away from the essence that is born within us. We get shouldered with burdens, some of them good, some of them not so good. Things happen to us. Loved ones die. People get in wrecks and get crippled. People lose their way, for one reason or another. It’s not hard to do, in this world of crazy mazes. Life itself does its best to take that memory of magic away from us. You don’t know it’s happening until one day you feel you’ve lost something but you’re not sure what it is. It’s like smiling at a pretty girl and she calls you “sir.” It just happens.
These memories of who I was and where I lived are important to me. They make up a large part of who I’m going to be when my journey winds down. I need the memory of magic if I am ever going to conjure magic again. I need to know and remember, and I want to tell you.”
― Boy's Life
After you go so far away from it, though, you can’t really get it back. You can have seconds of it. Just seconds of knowing and remembering. When people get weepy at movies, it’s because in that dark theater the golden pool of magic is touched, just briefly. Then they come out into the hard sun of logic and reason again and it dries up, and they’re left feeling a little heartsad and not knowing why. When a song stirs a memory, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light takes your attention from the world, when you listen to a train passing on a track at night in the distance and wonder where it might be going, you step beyond who you are and where you are. For the briefest of instants, you have stepped into the magic realm.
That’s what I believe.
The truth of life is that every year we get farther away from the essence that is born within us. We get shouldered with burdens, some of them good, some of them not so good. Things happen to us. Loved ones die. People get in wrecks and get crippled. People lose their way, for one reason or another. It’s not hard to do, in this world of crazy mazes. Life itself does its best to take that memory of magic away from us. You don’t know it’s happening until one day you feel you’ve lost something but you’re not sure what it is. It’s like smiling at a pretty girl and she calls you “sir.” It just happens.
These memories of who I was and where I lived are important to me. They make up a large part of who I’m going to be when my journey winds down. I need the memory of magic if I am ever going to conjure magic again. I need to know and remember, and I want to tell you.”
― Boy's Life
“You must learn to heed your senses. Humans use but a tiny percentage of theirs. They barely look, they rarely listen, they never smell, and they think that they can only experience feelings through their skin. But they talk, oh, do they talk.”
― The Alchemyst
― The Alchemyst
“... perhaps the clock hands had become so tired of going in the same direction year after year that they had suddenly begun to go the opposite way instead...”
― The Christmas Mystery
― The Christmas Mystery
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The Magical Kingdom of Ing: An Enchanting Tale of Fairies and Dragons
Piaras, a reviewer of my latest children's book, The Magical Kingdom of Ing, expressed what I have not been able to put in words about the desires I have for my own writing: "More often than not children relate themselves with the characters of a good story. In such circumstances, reading fiction can help them to get inspiration from the characters."
I am grateful to be part of this creative group. Thank you for thinking of me.
Piaras, a reviewer of my latest children's book, The Magical Kingdom of Ing, expressed what I have not been able to put in words about the desires I have for my own writing: "More often than not children relate themselves with the characters of a good story. In such circumstances, reading fiction can help them to get inspiration from the characters."
I am grateful to be part of this creative group. Thank you for thinking of me.