I was fortunate I knew her here.” She heard her voice, clipped, distant – suddenly – as if she were describing a third-form teacher who had taught her Linnaean classification. No, she said to herself. I was blessed to have her here. Her passion of place. Her sense of the people. Here is her; leave it at that.

Captive people have a need for song.

To garden is a solitary act.

Our lives are written in disappearing ink.

Freedom without the means to be self-supporting is a one-armed triumph.

I was fortunate I knew her here." She heard her voice, clipped, distant—suddenly—as if she were describing a third-form teacher who had taught her Linnaean classification. No, she said to herself. I was blessed to have her here. Her passion of place. Her sense of the people. Here is her; leave it at that.

Who can say how many lives have been saved by books?