It had lived in her hands, and her ear, and her heart, none of which the illness had touched.

The eyes had only been one route to it, and the loss of that route did not mean the loss of the destination, only the necessity of finding another road. Don’t play like the woman you were before.

Play like the woman you are now. That was the whole of it.

Not a denial of the loss — the loss was real, and permanent, and Emily never pretended otherwise — but a refusal to let the loss claim more than it had actually taken.

Grace had lost her sight.