Clare

“There is a version of your world, almost exactly the same as your own, in fact, where houses come alive. Where memory leaves a mark. And here, like in your world, every house that has ever been lived in is haunted. Haunted with births and with feasts, with piano notes, with arguments, with promises kept and unkept. Haunted with footsteps pattering along the kitchen tile. Haunted with insomnias and telephone calls and spilled glasses of wine. All the makings of a life.”
― GennaRose Nethercott, Thistlefoot

“Generations pass, and suddenly, we forget. Our descendants are born yearning and they do not know why, for they have forgotten. Their hands are full of fire. Their legs are trembling to flee. The body remembers. The soured air remembers. We cannot forget. I cannot forget. And if I am to remember, so too, I vow, will you.”
― GennaRose Nethercott, Thistlefoot

“needed to remember who I was, who I had always been. A woman who was unafraid.”
― Jennifer Saint, Atalanta

“Suffering then vanishing. Did everyone understand that’s what they had signed up for, or really just not signed up at all but been drafted? Life was soldiering. Death was disappearance. Death sure had the power move. It had the black cape, the fine print, and the magic tricks.”
― Lorrie Moore, I Am Homeless If This Is Not My Home