Samantha Hunt Quotes & Sayings

Humans are so good at imagining things, they invent gods who feel so real, they then betray us by not existing. — Samantha Hunt

Motherhood makes you a dealer in death. No one tells you this beforehand. You will become obsessed with all the ways a person can go because while it might be easy to deal with the fact that you will one day die, it's not at all easy - totally unacceptable - to deal with the fact that one day your child will die. Do — Samantha Hunt

He gave me an inside of ice so I'd never love you. But it didn't work. You are so close. You are the only warm thing to me. So warm, I am melting. — Samantha Hunt

Ruth does love Jesus, same way she loves Lincoln, Robin Hood, Martin Luther King, and Nat. Handsome men who fight for justice. — Samantha Hunt

Religions need women. Who else would do all the work? — Samantha Hunt

Like likes like." When — Samantha Hunt

My love for him was -- Tyranny. — Samantha Hunt

Millions of stars overhead make the violence of the Big Bang clear. So much force that matter is still sprinting away from the center. I — Samantha Hunt

Perfection scribbled out or the imperfection that makes you, me, anyone perfect and complete because it includes the truth of our mortality. Get — Samantha Hunt

I would like to give you more of my heart,but there is nothing more I can give you. I gave you everything and you crushed it into bits. — Samantha Hunt

I would think a person who doesn't know what's she's running from can't really be on the run, but that's not true. Here — Samantha Hunt

The Father wears natural-fiber clothing that he scrubs and starches before re-ruffling in an approximation of ancient Jerusalem chic. Every morning the Father braids his long hair, smoothing the split ends with beeswax. He coats his skin with a homebrewed sunscreen. He takes a spoonful of ground flaxseed and a spoonful of turmeric powder in his nightly goat's milk. He self-administers a coffee colonic on the fifteenth of each month. On the sixteenth, he reports any visions experienced during the purge. And every now and then, he loses control, drinking nothing but Canadian whiskey for three days. The — Samantha Hunt

Something in knowing is not quite as wonderful as not knowing. The — Samantha Hunt

I've been forgotten here. Left alone talking to lightning storms, studying the mysterious patterns the dust of dead people makes as it floats through the last light of day. — Samantha Hunt

Because every story is a ghost story, even mine. — Samantha Hunt

People can make beautiful mistakes, dear, and each one is an arrow, a brilliant arrow, pointing out the right way to there. — Samantha Hunt

A man who has to forge his own tools, his own language, is a man who is going somewhere. — Samantha Hunt

I am more lost from the world than anyone has ever been.
More lost than people who lived here before here had a name.
Those people understood stars.
The still felt north in their bodies.
I don't have any idea what happened to north.
My life so far has made me stupid, helpless, dependent.
I am not like the people who came before.
They knew how to feed themselves, how to give birth by squatting in the roots of a tree.
They were lost, but lost didn't matter back then, since there was no found.
They could wander these woods before tribes, before people even.
Following deer or bears or who knows what.
The sort of lost that doesn't exist anymore anywhere. — Samantha Hunt

These woods are where silence has come to lick its wounds. — Samantha Hunt

When Scout finds Boo Radley hiding behind her bedroom door, she says something that is scary because it is calm. Something like, "Why, there's the man right there, Mr. Tate." Or whatever his name is. Scout's not surprised to find a hollow-eyed monster in the form of Robert Duvall behind her door. She opens a line into magic, possibility. Or mystery, that's a better word than magic. Like an open hole in the ground no one noticed until Scout pointed it out, a place where men with dark secrets live behind every bedroom door. Scout's calm voice says, "The rest of you are blind. — Samantha Hunt

It seems the loneliest place in the world for something so lovely. — Samantha Hunt

Wait," I say. "I think you're mistaken. Saying there is no dream is the same as saying everything is a dream. Isn't it? Everyone's a dreamer? Extraordinary things happen all the time even when we're awake. What I meant to suggest to you, if indeed that was me in your dream doing the suggesting, is that there is only one world. This one. The dream is real. The ordinary is the wonderful. The wonderful is the ordinary. — Samantha Hunt

Love destroys. Thought creates. — Samantha Hunt

I'm the story of Sheresa. I write a little bit of the fiction of me every day. — Samantha Hunt

there's nothing scary about dead people. It is the living who terrify. — Samantha Hunt

For her, Mr. Splitfoot is a two that is sometimes a one, mothers and their children, Nat and Ruth, life and death. "Are — Samantha Hunt

Heaven is a dream of Disneyland for those unable to act here on Earth. — Samantha Hunt

You don't get to keep the feelings for someone you once loved. Once you've washed your hands of that person, all those feelings, all that dirty water is washed out to sea. — Samantha Hunt

There are no good guys or bad guys. Not really — Samantha Hunt

Why do the living assume the dead know better than we do? Like they gained some knowledge by dying, but why wouldn't they just be the same confused people they were before they died? — Samantha Hunt

Women will one day rule the world, and when they do, their brains will be so finely tuned from all the years of quiet that I anticipate they will be far superior rulers to men. — Samantha Hunt

A dream to one day design terrifically odd-shaped swimming pools for a California clientele. — Samantha Hunt

What is the scariest thing that can happen? A child can disappear without a trace. A man could follow you at night. Someone could hide behind your bedroom door. There is a small throw rug in the room. There is a wooden chair by the darkening window. There is someone hiding behind my bedroom door. Anything solid in my neck snaps, and I'm screaming, looking into this hideous face, like some dark mold, a toxic messy thing. There — Samantha Hunt

Catching my breath. I watch them go. I watch them disregard gravity, the ground, and the distance between us. And though an old feeling, one of the wings, haunts my shoulder blades, I stay pinned to the window. I've learned that I cannot go with them — Samantha Hunt

you don't have to be dead to haunt. Parents, songs, exes. — Samantha Hunt

Oh, I'm real. I'm the story of Sheresa. I write a little bit of the fiction of me every day. You see what I'm talking about? Then once you have the boundaries of history and fiction secure, where does everything else fall? Somewhere in between the two. History holds up one side of our lives and fiction the other. Mother, father. Birth, death, and in between, that's where you find religion. That's where you find art, science, engineering. It's where things get made from belief and memory. — Samantha Hunt

I'll just tell you what I remember because memory is as close as I've gotten to building my own time machine. — Samantha Hunt

Some people enjoy humiliation. Maybe I used to be one of those people, but I don't feel humiliation anymore. The body sloughs off cells every day, aging. After all that, what is left to feel humiliated? Very little indeed. — Samantha Hunt

Art isn't a hawk making lazy circles in the sky. Beauty doesn't equal art, and it can't just be the world in a package. It's got to take the world and mess it up some. Add the artifice as a lens, right? — Samantha Hunt

For people my age, including me, if we don't post it, it never happened. People's — Samantha Hunt

he asks me, as if Ruth's become invisible. That's fucked up but that's what happens to women. We grow up into ghosts. No one wants to screw Ruth anymore so she's invisible. — Samantha Hunt

as if being born a girl makes her responsible for everyone alive. — Samantha Hunt

We were tired of living in a house. — Samantha Hunt

It's where a thing can't be beautiful or perfect without an imperfection. Say, — Samantha Hunt