Basically what we have here is a dreamer. Somebody out of touch with reality. When she jumped, she probably thought she'd fly

no reason to mention my peculiarities, my wandering in the maze these many years, shut away from sight. and from love, too.

During a warm winter rain ... the basins of her collarbones collected water.

Grief is natural,' she said. 'Overcoming it is a matter of choice.

They were bound for college, husbands, child-rearing, unhappiness only dimly perceived- bound, in other words, for life.

Paris was a museum displaying exactly itself.

Lux’s frequent forged excuses from phys. Ed. She always used the same method, faking the rigid t’s and b’s of her mother’s signature and then, to distinguish her own handwriting, penning her signature, Lux Lisbon, below, the two beseeching L’s reaching out for each other over the ditch of the u and barbed-wire x.