"And she is going to dance, dance hungry, dance full, dance each cold astonishing moment, now when she is young and again when she is old."

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The moth settled onto the curtain and sat still. It was an astonishing creature, with black and white wings patterned in geometric shapes, scarlet underwings, and a fat white body with black spots running down it like a snowman's coal buttons. No human eye had looked at this moth before; no one would see its friends. So much detail goes unnoticed in the world.

— Barbara Kingsolver