Beautiful words, from the book Grange House, by Sarah Blake (2000).
She thought a minute, then leaned forward. "Tell me, Maisie. What is it that you wish?"
"I wish-" Again sounded the foghorn's soft remonstrance to the incoming weather. "For someone to point me toward a place where I may go, where I might put down all this yearning in me."
"Toward what?" Her eyes were fixed on me.
I looked at her. What? What indeed? "I do not know. I cannot say. Papa might have told me."
"I doubt your papa ever would have told you what to do."
"No, but he taught me, introduced me to other minds....He would have shown me how to grow to be like them, to fit into the shapes they held open."
"Shapes, shapes, Miss Grange. Shapes of possibility. For a life."
She sat back. "Your father could never have shown you that. Never," she finished softly.
"Because he died?"
"Because he could not show you what to be - only your longing, that precious longing can show you."
What is your longing showing you?