She thought of Aziza's stutter, and of what Aziza had said earlier about fractures and powerful collisions deep down and how sometimes all we see on the surface is a slight tremor.

Sandcastles had the weakest foundation, yet we rebuilt them for our sheer joy. Homes once broken fail even to enjoin cracks.

Picture to yourself, O fair young reader, a worldly, selfish, graceless, thankless, religionless old woman, writhing in pain and fear, and without her wig. Picture her to yourself, and ere you be old, learn to love and pray.

You had to take life as it came. It gave no quarter, spared no feelings. Limited no pain. Put no ceiling on happiness.

Written By David Baldacci

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