
Sleepwalking

Claire felt a swell of love for Joan, and she knew why: you love the people who take care of you.
Meg Wolitzer • Sleepwalking
In the core of the bystander there is always a false sense of power, of responsibility.
Meg Wolitzer • Sleepwalking
Laura’s was Anne Sexton, and Naomi’s was Sylvia Plath.
Meg Wolitzer • Sleepwalking
I’d been pushing ahead of everybody for years, like Plath, and I saw that none of it would mean anything in the long run, that I would die like everyone else.”
Meg Wolitzer • Sleepwalking
Death, usually such a divider, was the thing that held them together.
Meg Wolitzer • Sleepwalking
Lucy would not allow it; she always kept herself at a safe distance from both her parents. She had learned early to be independent.
Meg Wolitzer • Sleepwalking
Wasn’t that a universal fantasy—trying to guess what would happen after you died, how your loved ones would react?
Meg Wolitzer • Sleepwalking
There was supposed to be nothing as good as freedom. But what if your natural environment was captivity to begin with?
Meg Wolitzer • Sleepwalking
Profound things happened when you weren’t looking, and there were times when you couldn’t look, when you had to close your eyes for a moment of private darkness.