This isn__ how things were supposed to happen. I was supposed to be me. Not this.

People don't get to choose their family, but if you have the family you would choose - that's happiness.

Our ancestors derived less from life than we do, but they also expected much less and were less intent on controlling the future. We are of the arrogant generations who believe a lasting happiness was promised to us at birth. Promised? By whom?

Oh God. We__e talking about me being naked, in the shower with cooter cream. Please world, end. Kill me. __ know it__ not soap. I just_ if it__ scented_ I can__ do scented. Flowers and stuff like that. Fruit-flavored soaps make_ things_ burnish._ She could tell from the peeks at his face Mr. Fitzwell had never stepped foot in bath and lotion store, wanting to try the array of fun fragrances. Nor had he purchased Peppermint Candy shower gel, foamed up his nether regions, and felt like he had dipped them in lava. Dove crossed and uncrossed her legs at the memory. Mr. Fitzwell seemed concerned. __kay, just a heads-up. It__ definitely not good to put any fruits or plant life near your genitals._ He made a V with his hands and formed his own pretend vagina in front of his pants. Dove covered her eyes and tried to defend herself because now she could hear the sickly older woman beating her supporters with a purse. Dove__ mumbling got louder with her embarrassment. __ don__ put weird things down_ there. Just make sure that the cream__ vagina-scented. Just plain. For vaginas._ She kept her eyes on the counter.

Some selfish people rise because some kind people haven't learned the art of saying no to them.

Indra believed that the birth of each of her sons had been accompanied by a sign... With Sarva, overnight her cascading black hair showed a thick clutch of grey. He was the child she would struggle most with.