But hope rises like water trapped by a dam, higher and higher, in increments that mean nothing until you face the flood.

A thousand desperate wishes have been spoken on these shores, and in the end they were all the same: Make me someone new.

Sometimes when we find love we pretend it away, or ignore it, or tell ourselves we're imagining it. Because it's the most painful kind of hope there is. By indifference . By death.

Hope was tricky like water. Somehow it always found a way in.

When had she stopped being a child? The first time a guy whistled at her out of a car window when she was walking to school? The moment she started wondering how she looked when she ran, what jiggled or bounced, instead of the pace she was setting? The first time she'd kept from raising her hand because she didn't want to seem too smart or too eager? No one had sung? No one had told her how much she would lose until the time for grieving was long over.

This goes to show you that sometimes the unseen is not to be feared and that those meant to love us most are not always ones who do.