“Well, then again, she herself could be pretty single-minded when the occasion warranted it. But going over accounts and taxes? Quite honestly, she’d rather be tied to a stake by her hair and drowned in pickle juice. (Emily)”

“If she let herself, she’d drown in a world of pain”

“She tore off the kerchief from her head and let down her plentiful hair. The weight, the length, the glory was all there. She took careful stock of herself, then combed her hair and tied it back up again.”

“She gave me another of those long keen looks, and I could see that she was again asking herself if her favourite nephew wasn't steeped to the tonsils in the juice of the grape.”

“But had I accepted the pickle juice, I would be drinking pickle juice right now.”

“She wanted never again to have to fill another man's bed, telling falsehoods with her body until her mind could no longer track her own desires. She wanted to rid herself of the murk and the mire that had filled her. This life had bound her as effectively as if she were a falcon tied by a leather shackle, and she wanted to be free.”