What have you done? What have you given up?' So many things, Cecily. More than you know.

I should not have loved my daughter as I did. Not in this world in which nothing lives for long. You children are flies. You are roses. You multiply and die.

The sullen boy sitting before me is not my husband, and the girl he is fretting over isn't me, will never be me.

I had this feeling like the solution to everything would be down there if only I could dig through all those clouds.

Sometimes we don't know how afraid we are until we've reached a strange door and we don't know what will be on the other side.

She’s a commodity in a sea of broken girls.

I shake my head, watching snow tumble and swirl from an all-white sky. The world seems so clean if you only look up