Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

by Gabrielle Zevin

You would think women would want to stick together when there weren’t that many of them, but they never did. It was as if being a woman was a disease that you didn’t wish to catch. As long as you didn’t associate with the other women, you could imply to the majority, the men: I’m not like those other ones.

“To be good at something is not quite the same as loving it.”