“I wept heartily over this poor little deceased soul. It was the first sentient being I had ever killed. I was now a killer. I was now as guilty as Cain. I was sixteen years old, a harmless boy, bookish and religious, and now I had blood on my hands. It's a terrible burden to carry. All sentient life is sacred.”

“I now, weak, old, diseased, poor, dying, hold still my soul in my hands, and I regret nothing.”

“Had I ever loved anyone more than I loved him? Had I ever revealed more of my soul to anyone than I had revealed to him? If my tears spilled now, he would see them. If I trembled now, he would know.”

“I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy, and it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight with Papa, and I can only stay home and knit like a poky old woman (Josephine)”

“I had never wanted attention, and now I waspurposely inviting it. As I had told Dr Duverger, I had little vanity, and yet one recentmorning I realized that I was avoiding looking at my own reflection, because it wasdisturbing. Did I wish to go through life like this? Yes, the scar was a horrible mementoof what I had done to my father, but now I questioned whether I needed it to be soobvious. The actual weight was within me. I carried it as though it were a heavyearthenware pot of water. I had to walk through my days carefully, so as not to let it spillover. It was my own personal burden, not necessary to be shared with all who looked atme.”

“Whatever soul I had, Katie, I think I placed it in your keeping twenty years ago. And now, it's as if...every time we kiss, you give a little piece of it back.”