“Only now, when it is too late, do I long for Dearth. I was a misbegotten child of bad blood and bile, and I mistook my own orneriness for cleverness. I presumed to know what happiness was - something I… — Jane Avrich Copy Share Image
“Even now I'll see her looking at him, her eyes milky yet full of longing, and all he ever gives her is a gentle,… — Jane Avrich Copy Share Image
“Only now, when it is too late, do I long for Dearth. I was a misbegotten child of bad blood and bile, and I… — Jane Avrich Copy Share Image
“To know our refuse is to know ourselves. We mark our own trail from past to present with what we've used and consumed, fondled,… — Jane Avrich Copy Share Image
