“My firm resolve was to escape my wicked cousin and my English captors. But the wind was howling, and rain was coming down in sheets. And even as I relaxed in a hot bath in my snug apartments, the clamor of the storm outside was counseling me to be patient and wait. A wise woman never does anything in a hurry.”

“A storm was brewing. The wind has picked up and a mass of purple clouds was coming in from the West. It felt good to have my hair whipping around my head. I thought it might feel good to have hail beat down on me. Sometimes storms outside are the only relief for storms inside...”

“If I could have wished what I thought was my perfect mate on the wind and had her come back to me in a storm, I could never have come up with anything as exquisite as you.”

“The rain comes down harder as I write. It sheets off the roof in torrents. I wish it would pound against me. Pound the life from my body. The flesh from my bones. The pain from my heart.”

“my grandpa and grandma aren't like me. They're more like sheets drying outside on a breezy day--they change directions without any fuss. But me, if I was a sheet and the wind blew me, I'd never stop flapping.”

“In the wicked outside world, my brother told me, there were sins the church didn't know enough to forbid. I couldn't wait.”