Norma said that childhood wasn’t something she could imagine inflicting on another person, especially not a person she loved.

I always imagined the house would die without us. I don’t know, I thought it would crumple up. Do houses ever die of grief?”

Anyone looking at that painting would have wondered what had become of her. She was a magnificent child, and the whole world was laid out in front of her, covered in stars.

“She made a mistake. Can’t you understand that? She’s covered up in shame. That’s why she never got in touch with us, you know, when she came back from India. She was afraid we’d treat her pretty much the way you’ve treated her. It’s her belief that your cruelty is what she deserves.”

Habit is a funny thing. You might think you understand it, but you can never exactly see what it looks like when you’re doing it.

Even the oldest angers could be displaced.

In the city of constant stimulation, we had failed to give them the opportunity to develop strong inner lives for those occasions when they would find themselves sitting through the second act of The Nutcracker.

I could never help but think that had they met on their own, two women who had nothing to do with me, they would have liked each other very much;

Fluffy’s stories had stayed fresh because she had kept them to herself. Fluffy still knew what she knew.