“Was it as Ada had suggested, that we can choose our own endings, joy over sorrow? Or does the cruel world just… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“What a tragic tale! Why these stories for children always have to turn out so dreadfully is beyond me. I think if… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“we can choose our own endings, joy over sorrow? Or does the cruel world just give and take, give and take, while… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“We are allowed to do that, are we not Mabel? To invent our own endings and choose joy over sorrow?” — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“It was beautiful, Mabel knew, but it was a beauty that ripped you open and scored you clean so that you were left helpless… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“Makes me see that there might be some sense to having children after all, just so your entire life and all your family’s contributions… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“She and Jack had formed her of snow and birch boughs and frosty wild grass.” — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“And if it is true...that we are each inhabited by some bit of divine light, then upon death, how long before those particles dissipate… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“Carry me on and on to the edge of the earth, with children's laughter like a wind - full sail, then carry me beyond” — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“When she first fell in love with Jack, she had dreamed she could fly, that on a warm, inky black night she had pushed… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“But what makes the question of cultural loss the most uncomfortable, and difficult for me to address, are the inherent definitions built into it.… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“Sewing was different. Mabel knew if she was patient and meticulous, if she carefully followed the lines, took each step as it came, and… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“As Jack's eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he saw the ground covered in white and, in the light of Garrett"s lantern, snowflakes spinning… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
“Doubt crouched over his shoulder, ready to take him by the throat, whispering in his ear, You are an old man. An old, old… — Eowyn Ivey Copy Share Image
