“How quickly the world plows us under, she thought with a pang. For two generations, maybe three, we lived on. After that, we’re nothing more than a name, or – her eye fell on one of Great-Aunt Minerva’s chairs standing like a sentry against the wall – a part of the furniture.”

“How quickly the world plows us under, she thought with a pang. For two generations, maybe three, we lived on. After that, we’re nothing more than a name, or – her eye fell on one of Great-Aunt Minerva’s chairs standing like a sentry against the wall – a part of the furniture.”

— Sarah Blake