“She tightened her seat belt yet again, so she felt like she was wearing a strait jacket—appropriate dress for someone as crazy as she had to have been to come along on this trip.”

“It was all horribly ironic that she felt like she would need to be insane to believe the proof that she had never been crazy.”

“What a failure her life had been. Would she have lied to God if she’d had more faith, been more righteous? How could she possibly have a son at her age? And yet, if she had believed all along . . .”

“Dena had always been a loner. She did not feel connected to anything. Or anybody. She felt as if everybody else had come into the world with a set of instructions about how to live and someone had forgotten to give them to her. She had no clue what she was supposed to feel, so she had spent her life faking at being a human being, with no idea how other people felt. What was it like to really love someone? To really fit in or belong somewhere? She was quick, and a good mimic, so she learned at an early age to give the impression of a normal, happy girl, but inside she had always been lonely.”

“She felt the burden of loneliness lift from her, unaware that she had long been wearing it's mantle.”

“It doesn’t really matter [if she ever wears the dress], as long as she loves it. She’ll wear it a hundred times in her imagination before she even tries it on again. As long as she has the option of wearing it, she’ll be happy.”