“She had had insomnia badly when she was fresh from Home.... She had had only occasional bad nights since then. Bad? she thought. Why bad? I rarely feel much the worse the next day, except for a sort of moral irritability that seems to go with the feeling that I ought to have spent all those silent hours asleep.”

“What was happening to them was that every bad time produced a bad feeling that in turn produced several more bad times and several more bad feelings, so that their life together became crowded with bad times and bad feelings, so crowded that almost nothing else could grow in that dark field. But then she had a feeling of peace one morning that lingered from the evening before spent sewing while he sat reading in the next room. And a day or two later, she had a feeling of contentment that lingered in the morning from the evening before when he kept her company in the kitchen while she washed the dinner dishes. If the good times increased, she thought, each good time might produce a good feeling that would in turn produce several more good times that would produce several more good feelings. What she meant was that the good times might multiply perhaps as rapidly as the square of the square, or perhaps more rapidly, like mice, or like mushrooms springing up overnight from the scattered spore of a parent mushroom which in turn had sprung up overnight with a crowd of others from the scattered spore of a parent, until her life with him with be so crowded with good times that the good times might crowd out the bad as the bad times had by now almost crowded out the good. ”

“Was that a bad lady, Papa?" she asked eagerly.No."But she looked bad."There are very few bad people. There are just a lot of people that are unlucky."But she was all painted and..."She was one who had seen better days.”

“She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.”

“You are not afraid of me at all, are you?”Keely swallows. She is, but at this point, what does she have to lose? “No, I’m not. Irritated, infuriated, disgusted, yes. But afraid? No.”He leans forward again. “Those are passionate feelings.”She sighs. “Those are bad feelings.”

“She had died before, and it wasn’t so bad.”