8
" What work it must be, to have a daughter. My own mother, I remembered as guarded, anxious, easily distracted. I didn’t want to become her. I wanted to be, as a teacher, and as a woman, some version of Mother Roberta: attentive, wise, beloved. But tough, too, the way she was—full of conviction. The sort of person you’d think about as you fell asleep, comforted to remember that in this world of bad luck and rising sea levels and impossible pain, at least, thank God, there was her. "
― Claire Luchette , Agatha of Little Neon
12
" was impossible for me to tell just from looking, as we walked to the bus depot, whether the others were, like me, afraid to leave, or if they were so somber with a sense of obligation that they never let themselves feel dread. Perhaps they were determined to love whatever awaited us and expected nothing else. I watched them walk ahead, their heads bent low, habits fluttering, and couldn’t make up my mind how they felt. How wonderful it would be, to wring yourself of questions. "
― Claire Luchette , Agatha of Little Neon
