Across the Green Grass Fields (Wayward Children, #6)

by Seanan McGuire

Having thumbs is sort of like having a magical sword no one can take away from you.

There’s nothing wrong with being limited, as long as you have people around to make sure those limitations don’t get you hurt.

Anything with enough brain to know itself as an individual will reach out to others, looking for companionship, looking for other eyes with which to see the world.

“I bet husbands are complicated where you come from, too. You just aren’t old enough to know all the ways how.”

anyone who answered a friend’s honesty with horror and rejection had never been a friend in the first place.

She still didn’t believe in destiny. Clay shaped into a cup was not always destined to become a drinking vessel; it was simply shaped by someone too large to be resisted. She was not clay, but she had been shaped by her circumstances all the same, not directed by any destiny.