The Deep Sky

You ever think about how we live our life in constant motion?" Kat's voice asked in her ear. "Born on a rock spinning through space, and now here we are, rushing off to another. How come we can never just be? We've always got to go somewhere.

What was it about mothers, that they could know you so well? And not know you at all.

All authority is fiction," said Ruth...

She thought how there was nothing pure about love after all. How it had to get muddy with misunderstanding. People like her mother, like Ruth, they would always be other stars, visible but impossibly far away, and she would have to settle for imagining she knew what they were like inside.

And she realized this was one way a person could live: find a thing that gave you joy, and then the next thing, hopping from lily pad to lily pad of brightness until you came to the end.

A parent can't write the end of a child's story. If she's lucky, she will never even know it.

But hope is a problem too, if it isn't real. I'd rather live a meter from despair, if it gives me the kick in the butt to move forward.

...wanting to prove they were strong enough to withstand anything. Except strength could make you brittle. Big enough impact, and you splinter.

She wanted to want to belong, to sink her toes in the soil and feel the land recognize her, give back the piece of her that she sometimes felt was missing when she was in America. She didn't feel it, though. She felt lost.

She had envied Miki’s certainty about what she liked and didn’t like. Even now

A parent can’t write the end of a child’s story. If she’s lucky, she will never even know it. It’s for the child to figure out. I hope you are finding your own words out there in my sky. I think of you every second.

Asuka carried the box of defective bots to the Bot Shop, metallic limbs and stubby, cylindrical bodies rattling like anxiety trapped in an old mason jar under the bed.

What was it about mothers, that they could know you so well, and not know you at all.