Marilynne Robinson: Lila

You best keep to yourself, except you never can.

You can say to yourself, I'm just a body that thinks and talks and seems to want its life, one more day of it. You don't have to know why. Well, nothing could ever change if your body didn't just keep you there not even knowing what it is you're waiting for. Not even knowing that you're waiting at all. Just there on the stoop in the moonlight licking up tears.

“You’re my wife,” he said. “I want to take care of you, even if that means someday seeing you to the train.”
She knew there were words so terrible you heard them with your whole body. Guilty. And there were voices to say them. She knew there were people you might almost trust who would hear them, too, and be amazed, and still not really hear them because they know they were not the ones the words were spoken to.

Some dogs bite. So you keep them away from people. You can't just get rid of them, for being the way they are. And now and then you can be glad to have them around, to snarl the way a good dog never does.