“The seamstressWith fingers weary and worn,And eyelids heavy and red, Long after the house sleeps, Still in her chair she sits.Her needle flickering, in-out,Daylight nears and the fire burns low,Alone with her shirt, still she sews.She, held prisoner by her thread,Her heads nods, but sleep forbids,Just one more seam or button two.Listen brothers, sons and husbands all, Call it not just cotton, linen or only wool, Count each stitch and say a prayer, For heart and soul that put them there.”

“Then the sluice gates opened and Lotte said it had been a long time since she saw her brother, that her son was in prison in Mexico, that her husband was dead, that she had never remarried, that necessity and desperation had driven her to learn Spanish, that she still had trouble with the language, that her mother had died and her brother probably didn’t even know it, that she planned to sell the shop, that she had read a book by her brother on the plane, that the shock had almost killed her, that as she crossed the desert all she could do was think of him.”

“The house burned in the fire. Her house. Her prison of lies and of denial. Her American dream turned nightmare.”~Unbreakable Heart”

“She put her tongue out and felt the raw edges of the torn silk. She looped her tongue around them and drew them into her teeth. Just a little bit, she thought, that's all I need to free my eyelids. She pulled the tasteless web between her teeth and ground, pulling her jaw down in a grimace - it felt as it she was eating the very skin off her face. But the silk over her eyelids shifted.”

“But only philosophy will wake us; only philosophy will shake us out of that heavy sleep. Devote yourself entirely to her. You're worthy of her, she's worthy of you-fall into each other's arms. Say a firm, plain no to every other occupation.”

“Dragon!” she said and moved ahead of her husband to greet her brother-in-law with a warm hug. “You look well. The leg is still not bothering you?”“It would not dare, after the terror you put it through.”