You heard me. You ain't blind.

Silence is all the genius a fool has.

When Janie looked out of her door she saw the drifting mists gathered in the west -- that cloud field of the sky -- to arm themselves with thunders and march forth against the world. Louder and higher and lower and wider the sound and motion spread, mounting, sinking, darking.

She starched and ironed her face, forming it into just what people wanted to see.

Friendship is a mysterious and ocean-bottom thing. Who can know the outer ranges of it? Perhaps no human being has ever explored its limits.

Magic is older than writing. So nobody knows how it started.

She didn't read books so she didn't know that she was the world and the heavens boiled down to a drop.