Those silly girls had no idea what they were really celebrating. They had no idea what it took to bring Agatha and her friends together seventy-five years ago. The Women's Society Club had been about supporting one another, about banding together to protect one another because no one else would. But it had turned into an ugly beast, a means by which rich ladies would congratulate themselves by giving money to the poor. And Agatha had let it happen. All her life, it seemed, she was making up for things she let happen.

If we measured life in the things that almost happened, we wouldn't get anywhere.

Embarrassment felt a lot like eating chili peppers. It burned in the back of your throat and there was nothing you could do to make it go away. You just had to take it, suffer from it, until it eased off.

There was an art to the male posterior. That's all there was to it.

There was a certain power beautiful mothers held over their less beautiful daughters.

Not every man was sorry when he hurt a woman.

I think Heaven will be like a first kiss.