“But she'd lost a good deal of her innocence there, because she'd discovered so much she couldn't control.”

“It was her problem, and she'd deal with it. Because dealing with personal problems was so fucking high on her list of skills.”

“She'd read in novels of people who couldn't speak because their hearts were too full and she'd always thought, Not my black heart. But now she couldn't speak, because it was too much, whatever it was.”

“But she'd forgotten. She'd forgotten because she'd been so busy thinking of her own fucking feelings. As if she fucking mattered.”

“One day at a time. Maybe it wasn't such bad advice. Despite what she'd learned in childhood, change could be good, right? If she could just let loose and let it happen. The thought sent a tremor of fear through her. She'd learned early to hold on tightly, to control her surroundings, her feelings. But control didn't buy safety. She couldn't even control her feelings, much less anything else. Control was a false foundation that crumbled and left her vulnerable. She didn't need to control. She needed to let go and trust God, and that was hard. But he was her new foundation. She pictured it beneath her, solid and unwavering. It would be okay.”

“But usually, I watched Linda read. I couldn't believe she'd read so much in summer! Sometimes she laughed, reading her book, and one time she even cried. I didn't know how anyone could make such a big deal about books.”