To be relieved of love, she thought, was to give up a terrible burden.
I loved him," Muire said. "We were in love." As if that were enough.
love is ... something extraordinary that happens to ordinary people.
And then she moved from shock to grief the way she might enter another room.
I think about the hurt that stories cannot ease, not with a thousand tellings.
Sometimes I think that if it were possible to tell a story often enough to make the hurt ease up, to make the words slide down my arms and away from me like water, I would tell that story a thousand times.