“If it was true that moss did not have roots, and maternal love could grow spontaneously, as if from nothing, perhaps I had been wrong to believe myself unfit to raise my daughter. Perhaps the unattached, the unwanted, the unloved, could grow to give love as lushly as anyone else.”

“Perhaps the unattached, the unwanted, the unloved, could grow to give love as lushly as anyone else.”

“There was never anything wrong with my life. Perhaps that was the problem... The crack in my life was the fact that I had everything I wanted, or could ever want—and when you have it all, boredom grows like a fungus, coating everything you own and everything you feel.”

“Perhaps this was what Queens did. Perhaps they held their Kings in the darkness, deep within their castles and allowed them that moment of weakness they could never show to anyone else. Perhaps they gave strength to their Kings, because everyone else only took it from them.”

“Perhaps they were right putting love into books. Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.”

“If she could give love to IT perhaps it would shrivel up and die, for she was sure that IT could not withstand love.”