“Ivy rose to rinse the carafe. She leaned close to me, running the water to blur her words as she muttered, "What's wrong with her? She's crying over her tea.”

“And if you can believe it…she slapped me again. “What the hell is wrong with you? Stop hitting me!” I finally looked up at her, but she was a blur. She hit me so hard my damn eyes were watering (I was not crying – eyes water. I think we all know I’m a badass and I don’t cry).”

“tea. He watched her while she made it, made it, of course, all wrong: the water not on the boil, the teapot unheated, too few leaves. She said, "I never quite understand why English people like teas so.”

“She fell into a deep pool of sticky water, which eventually closed over her head. She saw nothing and heard nothing but a faint booming sound, which was the sound of the sea rolling over her head. While all her tormentors thought that she was dead, she was not dead, but curled up at the bottom of the sea.”

“When I saw her I was in love with her. Everything turned over inside of me. She looked toward the door, saw there was no one, then she sat on the side of the bed and leaned over and kissed me.”

“Don’t talk to me about her, John: I told you not to go near her; she isnot worthy of notice; I do not choose that either you or your sistersshould associate with her.”Here, leaning over the banister, I cried out suddenly, and without at alldeliberating on my words—“They are not fit to associate with me!”