You couldn't be perfect enough to keep the world from betraying you.
The world expected girls to pluck and primp and put on heels. Meanwhile, boys dressed in rumpled T-shirts and baggy pants and misplace their combs, and yet you were suppose to fall at their feet? Unacceptable.
Men have feelings too, you know. You bruise the petals of my manflower.
Careful there, Poet. I might start to believe you.
The trouble with morning is that it comes well before noon.
In them, she saw the sham of her life laid out like a book, the foolish belief that she, that anyone, could escape the consequences of this world, could flee from death. That was the deceit. The true serpent in the garden.