“And then I cry. Mostly for Rebecca and the tiny, unwanted beating heart deep within her womb. But also for myself. And our daughters. And for every other woman who lives, suffers, and dies by the mercurial whims of men. Three minutes later, when I have wrung myself dry, I lean over and pull the journal out of my satchel.”
―
Ariel Lawhon,
The Frozen River
