QUOTE : Yet the stories moved her. She couldn’t deny it. And they moved her in a way only *true* things could. It wasn’t sentiment that brought tears to her eyes. The stories weren’t sentimental. They were tough, even cruel. No, what made her weep was being reminded of an inner life she’d been so familiar with as a child; a life that was both an escape from, and revenge upon, the pains and frustrations of childhood; a life that was neither mawkish nor unknowing; a life of mind-places - haunted, soaring – that she’d chosen to forget when she’d took up the cause of adulthood.