Marya pinned out her childhood like a butterfly. She considered it the way a mathematician considers an equation.

Woman! Come out! I have—" She looked down at the bloodless grass, embarrassed. "I have come to rescue you," she finally said, as if admitting that she were covered in boils.

There is no such thing as a people who are all wicked or even all good. Everyone chooses. But even they, even they looked at people and saw only tools. No one is a cup for another to drink from.

I've always had enough, even if my enough and your enough are as different as an elephant and a minaret.

She felt as she often did in class when she was nearly sure she had the right answer, but could not always make herself raise her hand.

Do you know, Masha, how revelation comes? Like death. So sudden, though you knew all along it must occur. A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.

You humans, you know, whoever built you sewed irony into your sinews.