It snowed right before Jack stopped talking to Hazel, fluffy white flakes big enough to show their crystal architecture, like perfect geometric poems.

She understood. They were plastic flowers of words—but they looked nice on the surface.

This is what it is to live in the world. You have to give yourself over to the cold, at least a little bit.

People feared snowstorms once. Hazel read about this all the time. Pioneers opened their front doors and saw they'd been entombed in snow overnight. They walked across malevolent swirling whiteness and did not know if they would survive. Nature can destroy us in a blink. We live on only at its pleasure. That was what looking at the witch was like.

In woods where the woodsmen told lies, maybe it was the wolves who told the truth.

Kids can handle a lot more than you think they can. It's when they get to be grown up that you have to start worrying.

The halls were empty. Charlotte had missed the first bell and would be late, again. Her homeroom teacher would ask her for an excuse and she would say, 'Overwhelming feeling of dread.' That was going to go over nicely.