Sonja Yoerg

The past wasn__ a guest you could ask to leave when you tired of its company. No, the past put up its feet and meant to stay.

In a corner of her heart she imagined her compassion as kindling that could ignite not only her tender and guarded feelings for her mother, but also jump across the void and ignite her mother__ feelings for her.

Trying to understand her teenage daughter__ behavior was like trying to listen to a recording of a symphony whose volume vacillated unpredictably from barely audible to deafening. She couldn__ hear the music, and all she wanted to do was leave the room.

Courage lays within easy reach of a child who knows nothing of how easily understanding can unravel, leaving a set of rules that apply to nothing, and an empty heart.

What is in your blood matters, but not as much as what is in your heart.

She had gills while other people were breathing with lungs. There was, however, no point in dwelling on it, as it was too later to grow up differently.

But for her there was no possibility of a clear conscience, merely the weak absolution of honesty, of confession.She could not buy into the cycle of sin and penance. She would always remember what she had done, and it would always sting. She would not be washed clean.

What goodness she might hold in her heart had been overshadowed by her actions, again and again. She wasn__ a bad person, but she might was well be.

What goodness she might hold in her heart had been overshadowed by her actions, again and again, She wasn__ a bad person, but she might was well be.