Don’t worry,” Marya whispered, kissing his forehead. “My old bones will follow yours soon enough.

Death hath no dominion.

But lost children always find each other, in the dark, in the cold. It is as though they are magnetized, and can only attract their like.

She was not filled up with the sight of him, the way she had seen her sisters fill up, like silk balloons, like wineskins. Instead, he seemed to land heavily within her, like a black stone falling.

I burn, I freeze; I am never warm. I am rigid; I forgot softness because it did not serve me.

I'm not lost, because I haven't any idea where to go that I might get lost on the way to. I'd like to get lost, because then I'd know where I was going, you see.

If one did not have at least a little luck, one would never survive childhood. But luck can be spent, like money; and lost, like a memory; and wasted, like a life.