"She remembered what hope was, and this was it. That inner churning that moves you forward, plows you through life the way the boats below plowed the shiny water, the way the plane was plowing forward to a place new, and where she was needed."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"It’s just that I’m the kind of person […] that thinks if you took a map of the whole world and put a pin in it for every person, there wouldn’t be a pin for me."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"The girl had no idea, as she plunked down their mugs of coffee, that her own arm would someday be sprinkled with age spots, or that cups of coffee had to be planned since blood pressure medicine made you widdle so much, that life picked up speed, and then most of it was gone - made you breathless, really."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"His blue eyes watched her as she walked to him, and the room was filled with the quietness of afternoon sunlight. It fell through the window, across the rocking chair, hit broadside the wallpaper with its brightness. The mahogany bed knobs shone. Through the curved-out window was the blue of the sky, the bayberry bush, the stone wall. The silence of this sunshine, of the world, seemed to fold over Olive with a shiver of ghastliness, as she stood feeling the sun on her bare wrist. She watched him, looked away, looked at him again. To sit down beside him would be to close her eyes to the gaping loneliness of this sunlit world."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"There were days - she could remember this - when Henry would hold her hand as they walked home, middle-aged people, in their prime. Had they known at these moments to be quietly joyful? Most likely not. People mostly did not know enough when they were living life that they were living it."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"The mind, or the heart, she didn’t know which one it was, but it was slower these days, not catching up, and she felt like a big, fat field mouse scrambling to get up on a ball that was right in front of her turning faster and faster, and she couldn’t get her scratchy frantic limbs up onto it."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"Angie, leaning her head now against the hallway wall, fingering her black skirt, felt she had figured something out too late, and that must be the way of life, to get something figured out when it was too late."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"There were nights she didn’t fall asleep until morning; when the sky lightened and the birds sang, and her body lay on the bed loosened, and she could not - for all the fear and dread that filled her - stop the foolish happiness."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"God, I love young people,” Harmon said. “They get griped about enough. People like to think the younger generation’s job is to steer the world to hell. But it’s never true, is it? They’re hopeful and good - and that’s how it should be."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"You couldn’t make yourself stop feeling a certain way, no matter what the other person did. You had to just wait. Eventually the feeling went away because others came along. Or sometimes it didn’t go away but got squeezed into something tiny, and hung like a piece of tinsel in the back of your mind."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"She thinks of Eddie Junior down there skipping stones, and she can only just remember that feeling herself, being young enough to pick up a rock, throw it out to sea with force, still young enough to do that, throw that damn stone."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"Olive’s private view is that life depends on what she thinks of as “big bursts” and “little bursts.” Big bursts are things like marriage or children, intimacies that keep you afloat, but these big bursts hold dangerous, unseen currents. Which is why you need the little bursts as well: a friendly clerk at Bradlee’s, let’s say, or the waitress at Dunkin’ Donuts who knows how you like your coffee. Tricky business, really."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"Missing someone doesn’t stop."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"He looked at the books, and she wanted to say, “Stop that,” as though he were reading her diary."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge

"What young people didn’t know, she thought, lying down beside this man, his hand on her shoulder, her arm; oh, what young people did not know. They did not know that lumpy, aged, and wrinkled bodies were as needy as their own young, firm ones, that love was not to be tossed away carelessly, as if it were a tart on a platter with others that got passed around again. No, if love was available, one chose it, or didn’t choose it."

Elizabeth Strout | Olive Kitteridge