I guess this was what it felt like to love someone and feel like you had lost them. Even when you were still holding them in your arms.

Feelings are memories. Memories are also feelings.

Old paper, which my mom used to say was the smell of time itself.

I am powerful because of who and what I am. Not because of who I am not.

Aunt Mercy put down her tiles, one at a time. I-T-C-H-I-N. Aunt Grace leaned closer to the board, squinting. "Mercy Lynne, you're cheatin' again! What kinda word is that? Use it in a sentence." "I'm itchin' ta have some a that white cake." "That's not how you spell it." At least one of them could spell. Aunt Grace pulled one of the tiles off the board. "There's no T in itchin'." Or not.

Darkness does not leave us easily as we would hope.

Jump or stay in the boat.