Reading dreams. That's what started her walking down the road. Every day she'd walk a little further: a mile, and come home. Two miles, and come home. One day she just kept on.
I can see every monster as they come in.
[T]he army of wrongness rampant in the world might as well march over me.
I thought of the future, and spoke of the past.
Have you never heard what the wise men say: all of the future exists in the past.
The instant she saw the letter she squinted her eyes and bent her lips in a tough tiny smile that advanced her age immeasurably. "Darling," she instructed me, "would you reach in the drawer there and give me my purse. A girl doesn't read this sort of thing without her lipstick.