She'd been taught that pants were inappropriate for girls because they were immodest [...] If women's pants were suggestive, men's were equally so, and they revealed a great deal more of what was underneath them. There was almost always a bulge--you ...
You don't have to stop thinking and asking questions to believe in God, child. If He'd wanted a flock of eight billion sheep, He wouldn't have given us opposable thumbs, much less free will.
Here she was, being rescued by a socialist, feminist, lesbian, baby-killing, foreign terrorist. What would the ladies in the sewing circle say to that?
If God is the Creator, if God englobes every single thing in the universe, then God is everything, and everything is God. God is the earth and the sky, and the tree planted in the earth under the sky, and the bird in the tree, and the worm in the bea...
I figure if there is a God, She's good and surged right now about the state of things down here.
To be touched with love was a kind of miracle.
She prayed for that all through the night, uncertain to Whom or what, but with a feeling that almost resembled faith.
She'd crossed into a place where truth, even if it was brutal, was all she had to offer.
She stood by the bed and stroked her father's hand, knowing how desperately afraid he must feel at this moment. He'd always prided himself on being the kind of man who could be counted on, a man to whom others looked for advice and support. Dependenc...
That wasn't enough. They weren't enough. Nor, she soon realized, was Will, though by every rational measure he ought to have been. ... He became ardent, spoke of love, hinted at marriage. She stilled his roving hands and deflected his near-proposals....
She felt a soft brush of lips against her forehead, heard the other woman murmur, "Sleep now, chére." Chére, Hannah though. Cherished. It was a good thing to be. She wrapped the word around her and carried it down with her into sleep.
