Quotes & Sayings About Rosaleen

I think 'slow writing' is the answer when the feeling of burn out threatens, something akin to the 'slow food' movement. Anxiety and panic are counterproductive to the creative process. — Rosaleen Love

Rosaleen was a nuisance. Her children thought she was a nuisance because it was true. She was. A Nuisance.
Rosalene was a nightmare. She was very difficult. She was incrasingly difficult. She made her children cry. — Anne Enright

We are so limited, you have to use the same word for loving Rosaleen as you do for loving Coke with peanuts. Isn't that a shame we don't have many more ways to say it? — Sue Monk Kidd

If the potato blight had been such a long catastrophe, ending only seven years ago, it occurred to Lib that a child now eleven must have been born into hunger. Weaned on it, reared on it; that had to shape a person. Every thrifty inch of Anna's body had learned to make do with less. She's never been greedy or clamoured for treats - that was how Rosaleen O'Donnell had praised her daughter. Anna must have been petted every time she said she'd had plenty. Earned a smile for every morsel she passed on to her brother or the maid. — Emma Donoghue

Did you know there are 32 names for love in one of the Eskimo language? And we just have this one. We are so limited, you have to use the same word for loving Rosaleen as you do for loving Coke with peanuts. Isn't that a shame we don't have more ways to say it. — Sue Monk Kidd

I climbed into the honey wagon with my hair uncombed, with May handing me buttered toast and orange juice through the window and Rosaleen sticking in thermoses of water, both of them practically running alongside the truck while August rolled out of the driveway. I felt like the Red Cross springing to action to save the bee queendom. — Sue Monk Kidd

I missed Rosaleen's snoring the way you'd miss the sound of the ocean waves after you've gotten used to sleeping with them. I didn't realize how it had comforted me. Quiteness has a strange, spongy hum that can nearly break your eardrums. — Sue Monk Kidd

Escape her own father as well. Seizing the moment, she springs Rosaleen from jail, and the two set out across South — Sue Monk Kidd

Shitbucket, hellfire, damnation, and son of a mother bitch, said Rosaleen, laying into each word like it was sweet potatoes on her tongue. — Sue Monk Kidd

Like Rosaleen and Arthur's house, this had the feel of generations of people who had lived there before, families that had grown up, run and shouted through the hallways, broken things, grown things, fallen in love. Instead of the occupants owning the house, the house owned a part of each of them. — Cecelia Ahern

I helped Rosaleen some in the kitchen, but mostly I was free to lie around and write in my notebook. I wrote so many things from my heart that I used up all the pages. — Sue Monk Kidd