“I still think of myself as a house. Ravan tried to fix this problem of self-image, as he called it. To teach me to phrase my communication in terms of a human body. To say: let us hold hands instead of let us hold kitchens. To say put our heads together and not put our parlors together.But it is not as simple as replacing words anymore. Ravan is gone. My hearth is broken.”

“He looked up at me without saying a word. I tried to hold it together but I could feel myself breaking as I fell to the floor, my face in my hands – tears flowing down my cheeks. For the first time in a while I felt like I was truly losing a hold of myself.”

“Those were the words I thought were going to put everything back together again: but they didn't. I was hurt, angry and lost. I couldn't look at my husband without feeling pain. I didn't want him to touch me, or hold me, or comfort me. It was gone. He stood there, waiting for me to say something, anything that would let him know we still had a chance.”

“Let me, if I may, be ever welcomed to my room in winter by a glowing hearth, in summer by a vase of flowers. If I may not, let me think how nice they would be and bury myself in my work. I do not think that the road to contentment lies in despising what we have not got. Let us acknowledge all good, all delight that the worlds holds, and be content without it.”

“She puts her hand forward. "Come on, let's do a yay team!"Blake immediately puts her hand on top of Nia's."I'm not doing that," I say."Wolfie, do not deny us this simple pleasure. C'mon."I roll my eyes and put my hand on top of theirs."Yay team!" Squeals Blake. And she's supposed to be the sensible one.”

“If we must put our head into the lion’s mouth, let us make certain that he chokes upon our flesh!”