By Any Other Name

by Jodi Picoult

“History,” she said, “is written by those in power.”

“Do you have any clue what it’s like to be a woman?” “Is that a trick question?” “It’s being judged constantly. For your clothes. For your curves. It’s being told every time you turn on the TV that you have to be thinner or more beautiful. It means doing the same job as a man and getting paid less for it. It means if you age naturally you’re letting yourself go, and if you get work done, you’re trying too hard.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Being a woman means being told to speak up for yourself in one breath, and to shut up in the next. It means fighting all the fucking time.”

Sometimes, the lack of costume could be a costume.

If you didn’t dream, if you didn’t feel…you could not be disappointed.

being remembered by many was far less important than being remembered by a few who mattered.

“A wise husband,” Emilia said, smiling, “knows better than to contradict his wife.”