Always the bridesmaid , never the bride." Always the godfather, never the god".

And girls need cold anger. They need the cold simmer, the ceaseless grudge, the talent to avoid forgiveness, the side stepping of compromise. They need to know when they say something that they will never back down, ever, ever.

It’s the place of the story, beginning here, in the meadow of late summer flowers, thriving before the Atlantic storms drive wet and winter upon them all.

When the dawn light is coursing through the slats in the shutters at last, making thin stripes on the floor, she, tossing, decides that for every human soul there must surely be a possible childhood worth living, but once it slips by, there isn’t any reclaiming it or revising it.

There were people everywhere but no one was mine, and I was no one's.

How poetic you are," she said. "I've a notion that poetry is the highest form of self-deception.

The storm dropped a house on her head.