“There were still newspapers, then. We used to read them in bed. It's French, he said. From m'aidez. Help Me.”

“We still got roaches on the bed, walls, and floors, but Troy ain’t even crying ‘bout them no more. He probably too used to them by now.”

“I'll be darned!" said Douglas. "I never thought of that. That's brilliant! It's true. Old people never were children!""And it's kind of sad," said Tom, sitting still."There's nothing we can do to help them.”

“What did your mother do?" he said."Sir?""When it was time for bed," said the King. "Tell me."The girls exchanged nervous glances. He was talking about Mother."She used to help the girls with their prayers," said Azalea, hesitant. "And-sometimes she would read stories."The King set the sword on the table, next to the vase."Very well," he said as the girls whispered to one another. "I will read you a story."The whispering stopped.”

“There was a time if my mother had said we she’d have meant me and her. Now it was them. She was still a part of we; it was me who wasn’t. They used to be other people, those who lived outside our home. Now they were inside, it was me and them.”

“Because most of the girls were still in mourning and all of them had lost their textbooks, even pencils and pens, Shaukat Ali began the first classes by reading to them from poetry and religious texts. "Reading, literature, and spirituality are good for the soul," he told them. "So we will start with these studies.”