“I believe the poor fierce-eyed child had figured out that with a mere fifty dollars in her purse she might somehow reach Broadway or Hollywood - or the foul kitchen of a diner (Help Wanted) in a dismal ex-prairie state, with the wind blowing, and the stars blinking, and the cars, and the bars, and the barmen, and everything soiled, torn, dead.”

“The stars that sparkled, and the cars that parkled, and the bars, and the barmen, were presently taken over by her”

“As I squat to pee I look upward at the billions of stars and planets in the heavens and somehow my own insignificance no longer terrifies me as it once did, but comforts me, makes me feel a part, however tiny, of the whole complete and perfect universe. . . and when I die the wind will still blow and the stars still shine, for the place I occupy on earth is no more permanent than the water I now make, absorbed by the the sandy soil, dried instantly by the constant prairie wind . . .”

“With stars in her eyes and veils in her hair, with cyclamen and wild violets—what nonsense was he thinking? She was fifty at least: she had eight children. Stepping through fields of flowers and taking to her breast buds that had broken and lambs that had fallen: with the stars in her eyes and the wind in her hair—He took her bag.”

“Georgina, I need your help''Reaching into her purse, she pulled out two pages torn from magazines.''With wha-oh'' My stomach twisted uncomfotably, and I hoped I wouldn't be joining Doug in the bathroom. The pages showed photos of wedding dresses.”

“No matter what happens," she said quietly, "I want to thank you."Chaol tilted his head to the side. "For what?"Her eyes stung but she blamed it on the fierce wind and blinked away the dampness. "For making my freedom mean something.”