I watched the early morning light pass over and through the windows of coloured glass, leaving streaks of red and green and yellow on the stone floor. When I was little, I used to try to capture the coloured light. I thought I could hold it in my hand and carry it home. Now I know it is like happiness – it is there or it is not, you cannot hold it or keep it.

— Catherine, called Birdy by Karen Cushman (Page 120)