“She decided to free herself, dance into the wind, create a new language. And birds fluttered around her, writing “yes” in the sky.”

“Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new-create another heir
As great in admiration as herself.”

“It was a meditation on life, love, old age, death: ideas that had often fluttered around her head like nocturnal birds but dissolved into a trickle of feathers when she tried to catch hold of them.”

“She has a fascination with Mayan prophecies, and she's writing a book that's sort of her remembrance of her past incarnation. Whatever she applies herself to, she makes it this beautiful, glorious world around her. All of us kids have always been artistic because of her influence.”

“No one is free, even the birds are chained to the sky.”

“Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.”

“She made herself stronger by fighting with the wind.”

“She was so quiet. So reflective. And she could erase herself, her spirit, with a swiftness that truly startled, when she knew the people around her could not respect it.”

“She had grown older. And he loved her more now than he had loved her when he understood her better, when she was the product of her parents. What she was now was what she herself had decided to become.”

“The wind, the birds,
do not sound poorer but clearer,
recalling our agony, and the way we danced.”