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“Alice, Alice, gone down the rabbit hole. That's how Molly felt. On one hand she was more a woman than she had ever been, in all her eighteen years, and on the other she felt barely eight. There was something about the Book, though, something about holding it close that gave her a kind of distance and strength. She felt connected in that moment, and in truth, she thought she might have the answers to all of the questions that were running around like maniacs in her brain right there, curled up on her tongue. Not that she could have said them out loud or anything. It was more that she just knew, which gave her a kind of courage that she had never felt before.” — Amy S. Foster
Alice, Alice, gone down the rabbit hole. That's how Molly felt. On one hand she was more a woman than she had ever been, in all her eighteen years, and on the other she felt barely eight. There was something about the Book, though, something about holding it close that gave her a kind of distance and strength. She felt connected in that moment, and in truth, she thought she might have the answers to all of the questions that were running around like maniacs in her brain right there, curled up on her tongue. Not that she could have said them out loud or anything. It was more that she just knew, which gave her a kind of courage that she had never felt before.