“She found herself to be quite worried that something wouldjump out at her, so she began to whistle. She thought it mightmake it harder for things to jump out at her, if she was whistling.”

“She reached into her coat pocket and felt two things she hadn't expected.... One was a wad of cash... she brought out the money. Leo whistled. "Allowance? Piper, your mom rocks!”

“As often happened, Charmain began to despair of getting her mother to understand. She's not stupid, she just never lets her mind out, she thought.”

“Her future, she thought, was likely to be worse than her past, for after her years of contented renunciation, she had slipped back into desire and longing; she found joyless days of distasteful occupation harder and harder; she found the image of the intense and varied life she yearned for, and despaired of, becoming more and more importunate.”

“And oh, how she pitched herself into things. She would draw pictures all day long for weeks on end, then throw out the pencils and never draw another thing. Then it was embroidery with her, she had to learn it, and she'd make the most beautiful thing, fussing at herself for the least little mistake, then throw down the needles and be done with that forevermore. I never saw a child so changeable. It was as though she was looking for something to which she could give herself, and she never found it. Least ways not while she was a little girl.”

“I found her lying on her stomach, her hind legs stretched out straight, and her front feet folded back under her chest. She had laid her head on his grave. I saw the trail where she had dragged herself through the leaves. The way she lay there, I thought she was alive. I called her name. She made no movement. With the last ounce of strength in her body, she had dragged herself to the grave of Old Dan.”