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❝ i went to the woods because i wanted to live deliberately. i wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when i had come to die, discover that i had not lived. ❞
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FRANCES OLSON FELT SHE HAD NEVER TRULY LIVED. Not a day in her sixteen years had she been able to claim to have lived a life worthy of being described as deliberate. And while she had every right to drown in self-pity, Frances Olson refused to allow herself to crumble under the pressure of her sorrows. For if she did, she would be trampled by the life that had been neatly and articulately designed for her at such a young age.
Her father was a wealthy man, as most fathers were in her social circle. Edward Olson was the youngest of four sons, all born and raised in Vermont, to incredibly affluent parents with strict rules and guidelines with only the intentions of shaping their sons into men who would make great differences in the world. As one could expect, the Olson family was close-lipped, never the types to fret over explaining their emotions or indiscretions. They relied heavily on logic and precision, the idea of even the slightest dishonor upon their family name holding a firm grip over each of them, as if it were the jaws of death itself.
