It is my feeling that a story is not finished until it is read, and that the reader finishes it through his or her life experience, prejudices, worldview and thoughts.
Annie ProulxRead
It takes a year, nephew... a full turn of the calendar, to get over losing someone.
Interpretation
Grieving the loss of a loved one takes time and cannot be rushed.
Annie Proulx emphasizes the profound nature of grief by suggesting that it requires a full year to process the loss of someone dear. This period reflects the cyclical nature of life and time, indicating that healing is a gradual journey that unfolds with the passage of seasons and moments.
In practice
In a eulogy to remind attendees that grieving is a process that takes time.
It is my feeling that a story is not finished until it is read, and that the reader finishes it through his or her life experience, prejudices, worldview and thoughts.
No wonder, he thought, that the panhandle people were a godly lot, for they lived in sudden, violent atmospheres. Weather kept them humble.
You should write because you love the shape of stories and sentences and the creation of different words on a page. Writing comes from reading, and reading is the finest teacher of how to write.
I think it's important to leave spaces in a story for readers to fill in from their own experience.
If a piece of knotted string can unleash the wind, and if a drowned man can awaken, then I believe a broken man can heal.
But the only rhyme he could summon for 'out' was 'sauerkraut,' which lacked poetic glory. He let it go. The right line would come in time. That was the thing about poetry. It crept up through the draws and coulees of the brain.
It was just enough to sit there without words.
I'm not sure that love and like aren't like cats and dogs: One can't grow up to be the other, but they can be taught to live under the same roof.
People like you to be something, preferably what they are.
So she viewed time spent in the land of the normal as an investigation into the world of marriage-worthy men, even if she was unsure about her own interest in marriage. There must be one solid citizen who also had a spark of life, a sense of humor and adventure.
Listen- all that she was then, all that she is now, those gestures, everything I remember but won't or can't articulate anymore, the perfect words that are somehow made imperfect when used to describe her and all that should remain unsaid about her- it is all unsupported by reason. I know that. But that enigmatic calm that attaches itself to people in the presence of reason- it's something from which I haven't been able to take comfort, not reliably, not since her.
Said of her husband on the day their divorce became final: Oh, don't worry about Alan. . . . Alan will always land on somebody's feet.
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