I just lay there, trying to pray for some sign of gentle mercy.

...how much courage it takes to live an ordinary life.

She had an interior order, and for all her toughness there was a beauty that rose easily to the surface.

Photographs keep the dead alive, the girl had said. Not true. So much more than photographs. So much more.

Good days, they come around the oddest corners.

Who would it be, and what would they look like, and would they be tender, and would they be kind? That’s all she wanted: for them to be kind.

We hurt, and have one another for the healing.

You will be walking someday in the dark and the truth will come shining through, and behind you will be a life that you never want to see again.

I gave them all the truth and none of the honesty.

They were old and ruined and held each other’s hands as if they were just one piece.

The only thing worth grieving over, she said, was that sometimes there was more beauty in this life than the world could bear.