This was her life. Not the life she had once dreamed of, not a life her younger self would ever have imagined or desired, but the life she was living, with all its complexities. This was her life, built with care and attention, and it was good.

I would, quite often, like to be grownup, wise, and sophisticated. But these gifts are not mine.

The girl who signed her papers in lipstick leans against the drugstore, smoking, brushing her hair like a machine

We don’t really know what Ebola has done in the past, and we don’t know what it might do in the future.

Written By Richard Preston

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