A good story is always more dazzling than a broken piece of truth.

Once upon a time there was a fairy godmother, but the rest of the time there was none. This story is about one of those other times.

Boys do not leave their boyhood behind when they leave off their school uniform.

The tears I gratified him with were fake ones. Ones that set off my green eyes the way diamonds set off emeralds. And it worked. If you dazzled a man with green eyes, he will be so hypnotized that he won’t notice there is someone inside the eyes spying on him. – Vida Winters Page 268

There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner.

I read *old* novels. The reason is simple. I prefer proper endings.

He didn't know of course. Not really. And yet that was what he said, and I was soothed to hear it. For I knew what he meant. We all have our sorrows, and although the exact delineaments, weight, and dimensions of grief are different for everyone, the color of grief is common to us all. "I know," he said, because he was human, and therefore, in a way, he did.