A hot wind was blowing around my head, the strands of my hair lifting and swirling in it, like ink spilled in water. - Margaret Atwood

I was unfair to him, of course, but where would I have been without unfairness? In thrall, in harness. Young women need unfairness, it's one of their few defenses. They need their callousness, they need their ignorance. They walk in the dark, along the edges of high cliffs, humming to themselves, thinking themselves invulnerable.

Even an obvious fabrication is some comfort when you have few others.

Everyone said he was a fool. Everyone said she was a clever woman. They used the word ensnare.