Rachel Thompson Quotes

Survivors create survival mechanisms. Mine is pushing through. I push everything to the side, out of my line of vision, out of my mind and I focus relentlessly on my goal. Not sure what you’d call it, but who cares? I’m a fighter and that’s enough. I live each day happy to wake up each morning to my children’s bright eyes and warm cheeks. If pushing through gives me more days with the family I’ve created, with my writing, with my loves— fine by me. Call it what you want. I call it living. -Broken Places

My world, created by glass and flame in the birth of your heat, implodes inside the shadowed walls of my heart. I swallowed the shards you gave me, your eyes on mine. Nothing is easy. I wait, feeling your hands holding the shattered pieces of my soul together in the molten, darkest recesses of the heart you claimed, unwilling to give up. I am inside you, waiting to come out.

Women have rooms inside of us men cannot fathom. It’s where we store the depths of the hurt we’ve been dealt.Where we store the deep love we never want to lose.

This is a book about fracture. About the experiences that make up a life. About the pieces of me. Delving into naked emotion is a terrifying proposition. Digging into our souls to look for answers that may not be there is a ledge most of us avoid. And yet, here I am.

She wondered If I had woken up, would I have smelled his sadness, his desperation, and his detachment? His death, her breath. He told her once, she remembers, these two words have no other rhyme but each other. If she could go back, she thinks -- She would open her eyes, instead of her heart.

In a surreal gift from the universe, time both stands still and flies past you in that singular moment when you find out someone you once loved is gone.

Writers are always alone, even in a room bursting with noises of the familiar.

I gave my heart to a man who loved me, who wanted to be with me. Who ultimately was afraid of all I offered.I didn’t understand why he sabotaged our future at the time – cheating on me, again, as we were making final plans to move in together. By the time he came over to smooth talk his way out of it, I was done. No more crying. Even my tears had given up on him. I’d already moved on, his cheating was simply the key left in the mailbox.