(although anyone with half a brain must surely be mired in existential gloom all the time) - Kate Atkinson

That was how history worked, wasn't it? If it wasn't written down it never existed. You might leave behind jewelry and pottery, ornamental tombs, you might leave behind your own bones to be dug up at a later age, but none of those artifacts could express how you felt.

Love was the hardest thing. Don't let anyone ever tell you different.

She was a terrible mother, there was no doubt about it, but she didn't even have the strength to feel guilty.