Mary E. Pearson - The Adoration of Jenna Fox (2008)

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How can you be sure?" "I'm a doctor, Jenna. And a scientist." "Does that make you an authority on everything? What about a soul, Father? When you were so busy implanting all your neural chips, did you think about that? Did you snip my soul from my old body, too? Where did you put it? Show me! Where? Where in all this groundbreaking technology did you insert my soul?

Mary E. Pearson
Boredom reigns on all levels. The rain is a welcome change. I have seen the pond swell and the creek surge. I press my palm against the glass, imagining the drops on my skin, imagining where they started out, where they will go, feeling them like a river, rushing, combining, becoming something greater than how they started out.

Mary E. Pearson
Maybe staying on the surface keeps her from returning to a place where she can't breathe.

Mary E. Pearson
I think that maybe forgiveness is like change - it comes in small steps.

Mary E. Pearson
Are the details of our lives who we are, or is it owning those details that makes the difference?

Mary E. Pearson
Faith and science, I have learned, are two sides of the same coin, separated by an expanse so small, but wide enough that one side can't see the other. They don't know they are connected.

Mary E. Pearson
One small changed family doesn't calculate into a world that has been spinning for a billion years. But one small change makes the world spin differently in a billion ways for one family.

Mary E. Pearson
There is something about her eyes. Eyes don't breathe. I know that much. But hers look breathless.

Mary E. Pearson
Where we are going, I don't know. It doesn't seem to be the place that is important but the steps in between.

Mary E. Pearson
When your life has had few events to occupy it, it's amazing how a simple encounter can seem like an entire three-act play.

Mary E. Pearson
My memory is coming back. It is curious how it comes. Each day, a rush of pieces, loosely connected, unimportant bits, snake through me. They click, click, click into my brain, like links being snapped together. And then they are done. A small chain of memories that fill in one tiny part of my life. They come out of nowhere, and most are not important.

Mary E. Pearson
Awareness There is a dark place. A place where I have no eyes, no mouth. No words. I can't cry out because I have no breath. The silence is so deep I want to die. But I can't. The darkness and silence go on forever. It is not a dream. I don't dream.

Mary E. Pearson
Things I can feel. Hard. Soft. Rough. Smooth. But the inside kind of feel, it is all the same, like foggy mush. Is that the part of me that is still asleep?

Mary E. Pearson
Pieces. Isn't that what all of life is anyway? Shards. Bits. Moments. Am I less because I have fewer, or do the few I have mean more?

Mary E. Pearson
I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control.

Mary E. Pearson
My timing is off. But I had to get it out. Some things you have to tell, no matter how stupid they may sound. Some things you can't save for later. There might not be a later.

Mary E. Pearson
There are many words and definitions I have never lost. But some I am only just beginning to truly understand.

Mary E. Pearson
I thought grandmothers had to like you. It's a law or something.

Mary E. Pearson
Father says it will come in time. Time heals, he says. I don't tell him that I don't know what time is.

Mary E. Pearson