“Let me go to the house of the Father.”

“Why of all the nerve! That settles it, young lady. Either you come back to town with me or I'm not budging from this house. And when your father gets backmhe's going to wish he'd kept right on going!”

“I complained to a friend that although I had completed six years in therapy, my mother still wouldn’t let me go. He replied, "She’s not supposed to let you go. Your father is supposed to come and get you.”

“I fear you’re correct there. Catherine warns me that he has the look of a scoundrel about him.”“Jack has told me that he’s not going to let his daughter out of the house until she’s forty.”

“My father had a healthy disregard for social conventions: he once let me paint the house windows in rainbows with my watercolor set, to my mother's horror, and he'd clap for trees that he thought were doing a good job of exploding into red during the fall.”

“I decided I would go with them, but it would be at my father's house that I would eat. I would share his food, and his poverty.”