Rich, Salty Goodness

I look over to the other side of the road and watch Griggs as he walks. It’s a lazy walk but so full of confidence that you want to be standing behind him all the way. How does Jonah get to be a ten? He sits on the train with me when we’re fourteen and he weeps, tearing at his hair, bashing his head with the palm of his hand, self-hatred pouring out of him like blood from a gut wound in a war movie, and for the first time in my whole life I have a purpose. I am the holder of the grief and pain and guilt and passion of Jonah Griggs and as we sit huddled on the floor of the carriage, he allows me to hold him, to say, “Shhh, Jonah, it wasn’t your fault.” While his body still shakes from the convulsions, he takes hold of my hand and links my fingers with his and I feel someone else’s pain for the first time that I can remember.

The Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta  (via avidbookreader2)

Someone please get me out of this tag before I start rereading this book for the thousandth time and spend all night crying, thanks

Some say it’s impossible because you remember nothing when you’re five seconds old but I promise you this: I remember the tremble in my mother’s body when the midwife first placed me in her arms. I remember the feeling of slipping between those fingers. It’s like she never really managed to grab hold of me with a firmness that spoke of never letting go.

—Melina Marchetta, Jellicoe Road p. 189 (via booknation)

My days of waiting are over. If I want more, I need to go and get it, demand it, take hold of it with all my might, and do the best I can with it.

On the Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta (via fitnessbyjune)

taboo-but-tasty:

lydiduh:

In 15 seconds of dialogue Francis Wilkerson sums up what’s wrong with how women are criticized in our society and it’s great

amen

(via baldmarlin)