Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil

by V.E. Schwab

She looked at her life and found it small. Saw the road that lay ahead, and there were no curves, no bends; it ran straight and narrow all the way to its end.

what grows in the midnight soil is not a different flower, only a bolder bloom.

Charlotte has read enough romance to know the way she should feel in their presence, and yet, while more than once the heroes in those books stirred her, reality does not.

the world is supposed to be changing. Some years, it seems it does, in leaps and bounds. Others, the progress is so scant it hardly registers.