The great blessing and great cruelty of youth is that there seems to be time enough.

You can never know how your clock runs. But it does run - and always faster than you think.

She knew herself, how she had slowly, over years, become a cat, a wolf, a snake, anything but a girl. How she had wrung out her girlhood like death.

You're not in love if you keep your own heart bricked up behind your bones. You're only playing.

Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.

Family is a transitive property.

Astolaine Bombast, catalogue woman, ordered up like a rare steak, 'plees make shore she is pritty and a whyt gurl if you have enny'.Well, she's pritty enough for homesteading but takes no ribbons at the fair. After three dead babies that fellow wanted his money back, pack her up in a box and ship her east to the wife factory.