Samantha, on the other hand, loved me steadily and forgave me easily, and so — this is the ugly arithmetic of it — she was the cheaper person to disappoint.

Every time I told her to ignore my mother, I was spending her patience instead of my own courage, because her patience was the thing that cost me least.

It is a sickening thing to see clearly about yourself.

I chose, over and over, to wound the person who would let me, so I would not have to face the person who wouldn’t.

And the people who do that eventually run out of anyone willing to be wounded.

Chapter 9 — Yes or No