I wanted to scream, to weep. I wanted to drag my hand across the world and wipe it.
I knew myself for the first time in a week, standing on earth instead of polished marble.
You’ve been inexpressibly lucky, he said finally. And inexpressibly mad, although in your case the two seem to be the same thing
I don't want more sense! I said loudly, beating against the silence of the room. Not if sense means I'll stop loving anyone. What is there besides people that's worth holding on to?
The jurors appear vaguely stranded and at loose ends, uprooted from their routines and livelihoods.