Goddamn it, Joanna!' Claire called. After twelve years her voice was sharper than Jo remembered. 'I know you're standing on the stairs,' she said. 'I can see you. Get down here and help me!

She did it without thinking--At that moment she was pure Gilly again: red-haired, with fury for blood, perfect aim, and nothing to lose.

She was as necessary as the sun to me

She looked for any sign of the boy who'd taught her to whistle a hornpipe, who could palm an ace of hearts and make it reappear from her sleeve, but failed to find even a glimmer of him. Instead she saw Ida taking on a second life in the features of her only son, and for a quick heartbeat Jo was almost grateful for the scar tissue dimpled across her cheek, forehead, and chin. No one would ever be able to invade her face, she realized. She would always simply be herself, whether she liked it or not.

Jo shook her head. She wished she had an answer for Claire, but as far as she knew, love would leave its mark. Sometimes it even took the skin right off you.

How do you tell the difference between carelessness and passion?" Claire asked as they paced back along the edge of the marsh. "Is there one? I meane, really, is there any way to love a person without the hell beat out of you for it?

A gardin is where you can find a whole spectrum of life, birth and death