“I can't understand why people are frightened of new ideas. I'm frightened of the old ones.”

“I can't help it when people are frightened," says Merricat. "I always want to frighten them more.”

“Aren't you frightened?" Somehow I expected her to say no, to say something wise like a grownup would, or to explain that we can't presume to understand the Lord's plan. She looked away. "Yes," she finally said, "I'm frightened all the time." "Then why don't you act like it?""I do. I just do it in private.""Because you don't trust me?""No," she said, "because I know you're frightened, too.”

“New ideas seem like frightening ghosts to people at the beginning; they run away from them for a long time, but they get tired of it in the end!”

“If I had to create a god, I would lend him a “slow understanding”: a kind of drip-by-drip understanding of problems. People who understand quickly frighten me.”

“I was hungry, but I was nervous too. You were so new and I didn't want to frighten you away. I didn't want to frighten myself away.”