A hundred freedoms fell on her.

I think this book may be a little too fancy for me but I must admit she can turn a phrase.

In the past few years she had let go her ties to people she did not like, to ironing, to dining out in town, and to buying things not necessary and that themselves needed care. She ignored whatever did not interest her. With those blows she opened her days like a piñata. A hundred freedoms fell on her. She hitched free years to her lifespan like a kite tail. Everyone envied her the time she had, not noticing that they had equal time.

—The Maytrees, Annie Dillard