[Sister Hospitality, thinking]
"We start out in identical perfection: bright, reflective, full of sun. The accident of our lives bruises us into dirty individuality. We meet with grief. Our character falls and tarnishes. We meet with guilt. We know, we know the price of living is corruption. There isn't as much light as there once was. In the grave we lapse back into undifferentiated sameness."
"Men were beasts. Everyone knew that."
"The past, even a bitter past, is usually more pungent than the present, or at least, better organized in the mind."
"I'm not involved in shame. Morals are learned in childhood, and I didn't have any such holiday called childhood."
[Yackle]"We live in our tales of ourselves. . . and ignore as best we can the contradictions, and the lapses, and the abrasions of plot against our mortal souls. . ."