i. She never drinks tea if she can help it; she drinks coffee instead. There are not a few of her friends and acquaintances that frown on this; they think it's affected and American. Susan thinks the bitter taste of black coffee reminds her of someplace far away that she has never been, and she finds that comforting.
ii. All of who Susan is (daughter, sister, lover, soldier, philosopher, queen) is at times impossible to fit into what she is (a young Englishwoman, alone).
iii. Some nights, Susan dreams of angels. Not the gentle angels in robes of white with wings soft as down and harps of purest gold, no; Susan dreams of angels vast and glorious and terrifying, and she sometimes wakes with a cry, near blinded in her sleep, tears waiting behind half-lidded eyes. She never lets them fall, though, and when she is one day asked if she believes in angels she answers with a flat look and a line of Rilke.
Really, though, she prefers not to think of such things. She left all her soft pretensions of gods and angels in another world and the veil for her here is thin enough already.
iv. When she is a little girl, lions terrify her. (Which makes it slightly startling that this is the anthropomorphized form that Narnia's deity most commonly takes. When she, older and not a little intoxicated, shares this observation with Peter he replies with a steady gaze and a light "Susan, you think too much.")
v. Someday, she will travel in the desert and she will drink from the small flask that she stole from Peter when they lived under the same roof and she will be utterly alone in an utterly alien world and for the first time in years her head will finally be quiet.