Her sanity was a fragile thing, a butterfly cupped in her hands, that she carried with her everywhere, afraid of what would happen if she let it go-or got careless and crushed it.

Work and pray, live on hay, youll get pie in the sky when you die.

Who knows what may lie around the next corner? There may be a window somewhere ahead. It may look out on a field of sunflowers.

She liked things that had been written by people who had lived short, ugly, and tragic lives. Or, who at least, were English.

I guess Satan was the first superhero [...] In his first adventure, he took the form of a snake to free two prisoners being held naked in a Third World jungle prison by an all-powerful megalomaniac. At the same time, he broadened their diet and introduced them to their own sexuality.

You think you know someone. But mostly you just know what you want to know.

Men, she thought, were one of the world's few sure comforts, like a fire on a cold October night, like cocoa, like broken-in-slippers. Their clumsy affections, their bristly faces, and their willingness to do what needed to be done - cook an omelette, change lightbulbs, make with hugging - sometimes almost made being a woman fun.