Jaccuse

“He was still immersed in the dim, wet wonder of the folded wings that might open if someone loved him; he still hoped, probably, in a butterfly's unthinking way, for spring and warmth. How the wings ache, folded so, waiting; that is, they ache until they atrophy.”
― Harold Brodkey, First Love and Other Sorrows: Stories

“I am here and I am safe and I am sick of it.”
― Shelagh Delaney, Sweetly Sings the Donkey

“Life is too short to stuff a mushroom.”
― Shirley Conran