Felicity And I Watch The Dancers Moving

You And I, We Must Carry On, Gemma. I Cannot Afford The Luxury Of Love. I Must Marry Well. And Now I Must Look After You. It Is My Duty." "if You Wish To Suffer, You Do So Of Your Own Free Will, Not On My Behalf. Or Father's Or Grandmama's Or Anyone's. You Are A Fine Physician, Thomas. Why Is That Not Enough?" "because It Isn't," He Says With A Rare Candor. "only This And The Hope Of Nothing More? A Quiet Respectability With No True Greatness Or Heroism In It, With Only My Reputation To Recommend Me. So You See, Gemma, You Are Not The Only One Who Cannot Rule Her Own Life.

There Are No Wrong Decisions ― Only Different Ones.

The Wind Picks Up. It Sends Leaves Scurrying For Cover Until A Softer Breeze Blows Through, Settling Them Down Again As If To Say, Shhh, There, There, It's All Right. One Leaf Still Dances In The Air. It Spins Higher And Higher, Defying Gravity And Logic, Stretching For Something Just Out Of Reach. It Shall Have To Fall, Of Course. Eventually. But For Now, I Hold My Breath, Willing It To Keep Going, Taking Comfort In Its Struggle.

Maybe Girls Need An Island To Find Themselves. Maybe They Need A Place Where No One's Is Watching Them So They Can Be Who They Really Are

Please Do Not Strain Yourself, Miss Doyle. I Won't Have My Girls Going Cross-eyed In The Name Of Art.