Kids in aprons appeared, putting tureens of vegetable soup on the tables and plates of boiled eggs, potatoes and lentils, bowls of endive-and-radish salad, small rounds of cheese and loaves of brown bread, all looking quite delicious, in Zoe’s opinion.

Zoe was wearing a yello batik cotton dress, her typewriter keys bracelet, plaid sneakers, and glitter in her hair, in honor of meeting such a luminous personality as Bronwyn Gilwen.

Zoe had dressed up for their meeting with Dr. Marriott in a long Indian skirt stitched with beads and tiny mirrors, a T-shirt embossed with CAT WOMAN STRIKES AGAIN! and a short-sleeved pink hoodie. To top it off, she wore a bracelet made from typewriter keys. She was sure Dr. Marriott would love it, seeing as typewriters were right up his alley.

Without doubt, it is the greatest act of courage that is often the most fearful.

Just because there were times you were frightened doesn't mean you weren't brave.

Well, there are the letter I deliver to the monks, and other things, too: tea and dishwashing soap, paraffin candles, tins of powered Ovaltine...

Zoe let the poetry flow over her, like shadows on water, sunlight against stone: timeworn words shaped like stars, like shells, like the ruins of lost temples, soft as the breaths of mystics.

Zoe's mom liked to send silly postcards that made her laugh, but they usually dwindled as the summer wore on.

Kids in aprons appeared, putting tureens of vegetable soup on the tables and plates of boiled eggs, potatoes and lentils, bowls of endive-and-radish salad, small rounds of cheese and loaves of brown bread, all looking quite delicious, in Zoe's opinion.