Sorrow has a name, and its name is loneliness. Sorrow has a shape, and its shape is absence. Sorrow is a sickness like any other.

If one could drown in the grass, thought Elphie, that might be the best way to die.

It's unbecoming," she agreed. "A perfect word for my new life. Unbecoming. I who have always been unbecoming am becoming un.

at least i'm talkng to myself. instead of giving myself the cold shoulder

She dropped her shyness like a nightgown, and in the liquid glare of sunlight on old boards she held up her hands-as if, in the terror of the upcoming skirmish, she had at last understood that she was beautiful. In her own way.

The thing about a mirror is this: The one who stares into it is condemned to consider the world from her own perspective.

Just follow that one road the whole time!... I hope they don't get lost, I'm so bad at giving directions.