Hope was a plain thing for her, common as bread.

The impetuous wind can ignite the fire or put it out.

One must stand apart in order to truly know another.

I felt that I was burning underwater.

She'd always perceived the world to be against her. Happiness was never to be trusted. And yet I thought vaguely, neither was sorrow. Didn't each come to season in the other?

I thought of the old proverb: Where there are three physicians, there are two atheists.

The recitation of grievances was strange balm.

For it was beautiful upon our tongues and we traced all the lines to the heart.

The flowers don’t discriminate. Only men with their superior reason.

Yet there in the library, Hamish and I climbed the bright ladder of the body, as if it were sky and we a deafening. twisting flock of birds that could never fall to earth.