“Her body was rounded like earth. Stories. Breath. . . . Her eyes have been painted closed. I understand. To tell a story you must travel inward.”

“If I closed my eyes as you were talking, it was like I was there, like your stories were my stories. In many ways, I feel as if I have memories of you there, too. ”

“I've found her, she is how the story tells. Black hair, pale skin, perfect body. And her eyes, oh, her eyes! She hurts with her eyes. I saw her at the School. Two pink diamonds. It's she, I perceive the fire. I finally found the Maid of Flames.”

“I closed my eyes and willed my breath to slow, my conscious mind to fold itself inward. I could feel heat pulsing from my daughter's head, her frantic thoughts whirling like broken glass. I loosened my hold on my body and dropped into that whirlpool.”

“Let her tell stories and dance in the rain, somersault, tumble and run, her joys must be high as her sorrows are deep, let her grow like a weed in the sun.”

“If you tell the story you will live the story. If you live the story you have to own the story. If you dont like the story your living, stop telling it.”