The Grave's a Fine and Private Place (Flavia de Luce, #9)

by Alan Bradley

Books served Daffy as an insulation between the real world and her tender heart.

I can relate.

Why do so many poets apologize before reading their work aloud? I wondered. How many readings had we attended at St. Tancred’s parish hall where the poet felt obliged to kill his own young before they ever drew breath?

Mr. Clemm gasped. “How could you possibly know that?” “Feminine intuition,” I replied. Which was an outright lie. Feminine intuition is no more than an acceptable excuse for female brains.