She is so stubborn, her heart has an argument with her head every time it wants to beat.

You were so near death that ghosts crowded around you, weeping silver tears, waiting for you with such smiles. You humans, you know, whoever built you sewed irony into your sinews.

Whenever one does extraordinary things, someone is bound to try to repeat them for themselves. It's the way of the world.

That's Venus, September thought. She was the goddess of love. It's nice that love comes on first thing in the evening, and goes out last in the morning. Love keeps the light on all night.

Her heart ached as though a knife had quietly slipped between her ribs.

For there are two kinds of forgiveness in the world: the one you practice because everything really is all right, and what went before is mended. The other kind of forgiveness you practice because someone needs desperately to be forgiven, or because you need just as badly to forgive them, for a heart can grab hold of old wounds and go sour as milk over them.

I believe we have an utterly unique specimen on our hands: a child who listens.