Andrea Lewis Quotes

One of the abiding mysteries of my life is the fact that lipstick disappears from my mouth five minutes after I put it on. I’m in awe of women who are always––always––lipstick intact, even during and after meals. I guess I’m a chronic lip-biter, lip-licker and mouth-wiper. But since I found out that the average woman eats nine pounds of lipstick in her lifetime, I can’t bring myself to reapply that often. Whatever chemicals they’ve added to make a lipstick long-wearing, I’d just swallow those too.

He pointed toward the constellation. He did indeed know things. ...But it was hard for me to take it all in. The night was too crowded with joy. And the desert was making all that noise. And next to me, the girl... With every shooting star, she touched my arm and whispered, “Ooh, Mister, look.”

Rodney, whatever is the opposite of philosophy?
"My dear, the opposite of philosophy is terror."
"Terror? You mean fear of death?" I asked.
"I don't think so..."
"Fear of what, then?"
"Of never having lived."

Joy can come alive like that, when random pieces of history and rhythm, pause and expectation, melody and lyric, suddenly rearrange themselves into a pattern that leaps up, back against the wall, and catches your heart.

We came down from the trees, up from the grasslands, and into an SUV. We drove. We motored. We headed for that Texas horizon, flat as the flat-line on a heart monitor, straight to the brink of extinction, all the while pumping gas.

I loved these compliments, which he lobbed at me like popcorn at a pigeon. I felt silly for craving his attention and powerful because he had noticed me. I bounced between those extremes, every other heartbeat, laying down hope one stratum at a time. The fact that he was all wrong––married, my boss, a flirt––gave me a perverse desire to make it right.

Danger is like a nutrient for truth. When you have danger, you get the best truth. When it's safe, who cares?

The damp packed earth beneath the magnolias was our playground, but even when I was small I watched the middle distance, as if my destiny might arise from the grooved line where the mangroves met the sky. Sometimes a pelican would appear out of the haze, six horizontal feet of pterodactyl in an effortless glissade, cruising just above the treetops, riding down the long, drawn-out minutes of the morning.

Each somersault whipped out a perfect arc of shiny drops from his thick black hair. Then, as if it were his decision and not gravity’s, he opened the blade of his body toward the water and pierced its placid blue surface.

Yes, it’s hard to explain... It sets you apart, and people think you’re nuts. ...[N]obody else saw omens, auras, colors. I once cried over a sheep dog—a day before he died—and then was cursed as if I caused it. After that I kept quiet. I pretty much kept quiet for fifty years once I realized nobody cared... Even a tumbleweed trapped under barbed wire has purpose. ...I never denied the gift, if that’s what it was, but it came with loneliness.

We were a tiny redoubt of culture holding our own against the neighboring Huns of organized sports. I pretended to join the group disdain, but I knew in my heart it was already too late. After the two innings I had watched before leaving the house, baseball had reclaimed me. ...Forty years is a long time to hold your breath, but I was back.

Lips... were ubiquitous in the ‘50s, when a few icons of womanhood were tattooed onto my temporal lobes.

Even the blue-and-white Delftware tile is back up on the wall because, when you took it down, the pale square of paint behind it broke your heart.

Someday I’ll do an historical survey and in-depth analysis of lipstick color names and it will be an accurate reflection of our evolving culture.

And so for the remaining two hours of the meeting, Mr. Delgado and I sat in the front and directed the discussion. Or rather he directed it and I pretended I had an equal voice. A pattern quickly emerged in which my words would be greeted by silence and chilly looks; then Mr. Delgado would rephrase what I had said, as if interpreting from female to male language, with the added weight of an American accent.