Children make prayers so thoughtlessly, building them up like sand castles—and they are always surprised when suddenly the castle becomes real, and the iron gate grinds shut.

The storm ate up September’s cry of despair, delighted at its mischief, as all storms are.

We all just keep moving, September. We keep moving until we stop.

There's more than one way between your world and ours. There's the changeling road, and there's the Ravishing, and there's those that Stumble through a gap in the hedgerows or a mushroom ring or a tornado or a wardrobe full of winter coats.

Someone ought to write a novel about me,” said Lebedeva loftily. “I shouldn’t care if they lied to make it more interesting, as long as they were good lies, full of kisses and daring escapes and the occasional act of barbarism. I can’t abide a poor liar.

It is well known that reading quickens the growth of a heart like nothing else.

I looked at this man and thought: Oh, how we are going to hurt each other.