Robin

“I leaned my back against an oak Thinking it was a trusty tree. But first it bent, And then it broke And let me down as my love did me. —”The Water Is Wide,” traditional folk song”
― Jill Barnett, Wild

“In Russia, perhaps truth and tragedy were always intertwined.”
― Laura Rose, The Passion of Marie Romanov

“She had joined that sad sisterhood called disappointed women; a larger class than many deem it to be, though there are few of us who have not seen members of it. Unhappy wives; mistaken or forsaken lovers; meek souls, who make life a long penance for the sins of others; gifted creatures kindled into fitful brilliancy by some inner fire that consumes but cannot warm. These are the women who fly to convents, write bitter books, sing songs full of heartbreak, act splendidly the passion they have lost or never won; who smile, and try to lead brave uncomplaining lives, but whose tragic eyes betray them, whose voices, however sweet or gay, contain an undertone of hopelessness, whose faces sometimes startle one with an expression which haunts the observer long after it is gone.”
― Patricia O'Brien, The Glory Cloak: A Novel of Louisa May Alcott and Clara Barton

“These past years have caused my heart to become untethered. There are no more scraped knees to kiss, soft curls to smooth back, hungry minds to feed with an opened book, a discovery in the forest, a speck of water on a piece of glass under the microscope. And there is no warm flesh to reach for in the middle of the night when the light of the full moon breaking in through the window causes one’s eyelids to flutter open.”
― Lake Union Publishing, Henry and Rachel