Authors:
  • As long as I kept moving, my grief streamed out behind me like a swimmer's long hair in water. I knew the weight was there but it didn't touch me. Only when I stopped did the slick, dark stuff of it come floating around my face, catching my arms and throat till I began to drown. So I just didn't stop.

    Barbara Kingsolver (2008). “The Poisonwood Bible”, p.288, Faber & Faber