“she looked up at the stars and gave Tibby thanks. She didn't have to throw her thoughts far to know they reached her.”

“She didn't want to go far, just out of the trees so she could see the stars. They always eased her loneliness. She thought of them as beautiful creatures, burning and cold; each solitary, and bleak, and silent like her.”

“After all she’d been through, it irked her that he thought he could just look at her and know who she was. She didn't even know who she was.”

“She got under the covers and put her arms around the bag. She could smell Tibby. It used to be she couldn't smell Tibby's smell in the way you couldn't smell your own; it was too familiar. But tonight she could. This was some living part of Tibby still here and she held on to it. There was more of Tibby with her here and now than in what she had seen in the cold basement room that day.”

“She pulled the bedclothes up as far as they would go and suppressed a perverse wish to have her old nurse come to chase away the darkness, perverse because she didn't know if she wanted the shadows to be empty or not.”

“She stood eating soup in her overgrown garden, looking up at stars she could not name.”