The French are connoisseurs of sadness, they know all kinds. This is why they have bidets. - Margaret Atwood

The shroud itself became a story almost instantly. 'Penelope's web', it was called; people used to say that of any task that remained mysteriously unfinished. I did not appreciate the term web. If the shroud was a web, then I was a spider. But I had not been attempting to catch men like flies: on the contrary, I'd merely been trying to avoid entanglement myself.

I exist in two places,
here and where you are.

You can't keep a cool head when you're drowning in love. You just thrash around a lot and scream, and wear yourself out.