For Anna there must be such a Margaret, who has been one thing and is now another, while Margaret looking at her own life sees only the onwardly flowing blur of all experience.
“The poet Tarus said that when he came home, the land itself sang under
his feet, and his heart sang with it.”
“That may be unique to poets.”… I suspect these things say more about us than they do about the land itself.”
Everybody makes up a story about their sins. Sometimes to make
them less, sometimes to make them the worst thing a mortal’s ever done.
Really depends on the person.
People were remarkably willing to dismiss their own sight. Marra thought perhaps that the world was so strange and vision so flawed that you soon realized that anything and everything could be a trick of the light.