I love that an idea can be so powerful it doesn't matter whether I've seen the artwork for real or not.

— Sara Baume

I never went downstairs to join my housemates around the television. I cooked dinner later than everyone else and carried the plate up to my bedroom. Furthermore, I knew they must have thought me aloof, or a little bit eccentric, or maybe even unkind, but I didn't care. Once the kitchen door swung shut behind me, I was alone, and so everything was okay.

— Sara Baume

In the days approaching Christmas, she always reminds me of the previous year: 'Jane crocheted you an entire poncho, and all you gave her was a bone-shaped beach stone.

— Sara Baume

In the face of immense tragedy—yet again—unexpected beauty.

— Sara Baume

I see foxes often, but always they are crossing fallow fields in the distance. Gold flecks on faraway expanses of green. Magnetic to the meandering eye. Enigmatic, unreachable.

— Sara Baume

It happens so seldom; I must catch and keep this slender yearning, a rare beetle in a jam-jar trap. But mustering will is not the same as wanting. I lie in the garden and think about all the footsteps between my body on the grass and my pencil-case and notebook on the table in the sun room. All the muscles I have to flex and relax to get myself there.

— Sara Baume

I think: by the time I'm old, nobody will be able to die anymore.

— Sara Baume

It’s time to accept that I am average, and to stop making this acceptance of my averages into a bereavement.

— Sara Baume

It's too warm for red wine; now I mix gin and tonics instead. I find they make the ordinary sensation of living lighter, less ruffled.

— Sara Baume

I was wrong to try and impose something of my humanity on you, when being human never did me any good

— Sara Baume