The Unlikely Pilgrimage Of Harold Fry

‘If cancer’s got hold of you, there’s nothing that’s going to stop it.’

It was intensely private; the way she did not move, or notice his arrival.

She had been crying so hard her whole being seemed liquid.

Being alone required such constant effort.

I know it wouldn’t have made any difference in the end but I wish I had let her see how much I wanted to keep her.

It was as much of a gift to receive as it was to give, requiring as it did both courage and humility.

‘I don’t push it and I don’t hang about. If I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, it stands to reason that I’m going to get there. I’ve begun to think we sit far more than we’re supposed to.’ He smiled. ‘Why else would we have feet?’

It was as if lots of invisible Maureens and Harolds were loitering in her wardrobe, simply waiting for the opportunity to step out. It made her smile, and then it made her cry;

the sea glittered.

Even when she is afraid, she must wait. She must keep living.’
‘I believe she will. God bless you, Mr Fry.’