“She stroked my hair and told me I was beautiful, but I was old enough by then to know not to believe it anymore.”

“As many times as I told her she was beautiful, I know that she never believed me. As many times as I said it didn’t matter, I knew that to her it did.”

“Are you learning me by heart, little Sara?" he said, stroking her hair."No," she answered. "I know you by heart. You are inside my heart.”

“She reached out and stroked my hair just as she had when I was a child. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me, feeling utterly safe.”

“Had you been lying all along? Mum gently stroked my hair. I whispered into her shoulder. “I can’t go back. Not yet. I can’t leave.” And she held my head tight to her chest and wrapped her arms around me. “You don’t have to,” she said, rocking me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, not anymore.” And I cried.”

“She told me once that when she was with me she felt like the beautiful woman she never thought she'd be. I can't imagine what could ever make her think she wasn't beautiful enough to anyone, least of all me. She's the beautiful one. The most beautiful one in the world to me.”