For fun? Maybe evil is an art form.

What goes unnamed remains hard to correct.

quoting reminds me there are other people in the world besides only me. And other thoughts besides mine, and other ways of thinking.

She dreamed of leaving, but she had too little exposure to the world to imagine where to go.

Not an ugly color, Nanny thought. Just not a human color.

Old Flossie settle down on the other side of What-the-Dickens and dragged some handiwork out of a sack. She armed herself with two thorns shaped into knitting needles. A wodge of curlicued metallic scrubbing pad supplied the threat. 'I knit handcuffs as a hobby,' explained Old Flossie happily, and set to work. 'Idle hands get up to no good, so I like to be prepared in case I meet up with any idle hands.

That was such a wonderful time, even in its strangeness and sadness-and life isn't the same now. It's wonderful, but it isn't the same.