I sang out the words unflinchingly though, as I stomped around the toadstool in clouds of church-basement dust, with a damp Gnome hand clutched in each of mine.

“We slept in what had once been the gymnasium.”

“I look up at the ceiling, tracing the foliage of the wreath. Today it makes me …”

“It is always a mistake to curse back openly at those who are stronger than you …”

“If I have an egg, what more can I want?”