She was a stranger in a world of strangers and they were strangers she had left behind

She’d kept too many secrets and abandoned too many people, and that wasn’t even the worst of it.

Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was but that I was, forgot to be.

Yes, there were times when I forgot not only who I was, but that I was, forgot to be.

Venture too far for love, she tells herself, and you renounce citizenship in the country you've made for yourself.

If she forgets where she came from, if the people lose sight of what brought them along, if she listens to the deniers and mockers, then will begin the rot and dissolution.

And then she’d take off again, with a sort of confused-confounded glance down at me, as though every time she came home, it was a shock to remember that I’d ever been born.

The feeling of coming home, when she didn’t want to come home any more than she wanted the liability of love.

She's forgotten too, that woman who sprang from filth, from vermin, from treachery and infidelity.

She was an outsider. Had left her sisters. Forgotten hive and moiety.

Its easy to forget where you are and where you've been.

The issues Miss Quested had raised were so much more important than she was herself that people inevitably forgot her.

Venture too far for love, she tells herself, and you renounce citizenship in the country you've made for yourself. You end up just sailing from port to port.

In the sudden change that had come over her heart, she no longer recognised herself.