“She did not want to talk of her sorrow, but with that sorrow in her heart she could not talk of outside matters.”

“She was sensible and clever, but eager in everything; her sorrows, her joys, could have no moderation.”

“it wouldn’t take much for the sorrow she felt at the sorrow she caused to drown her again”

“That she could smile while I hurt in ways I could not understand—it broke something in me. I did not understand the heart of her, then. She is made of brightness, too much for sorrow. Such a glad spirit—I am humbled now that she shared it with me.”

“Gwynn, she was always talking about wanting to be drunk and honestly I did want to encourage that, I wanted to go to a bar with her and let all the stuff sobriety pushed down be released so I could catch it in my palms and finally kiss her. She was just so sad. Melancholy was a fleshy wave permanently cresting on her face, she had to speak through it when she talked.”

“She could keep her silence, it was evident, as energetically as she could talk.”