You send me all these roses. Every time I think the last bouquet has arrived, finally, another turns up. I’m running out of vases. I didn’t know roses came in so many colors. You say they’re the perfect symbols of love because they have thorns and love is pain. I say life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something. And you don’t get it. You say you love me, but you don’t speak my language. You don’t even realize I’m an orchid girl.

I don;t think there's anything wrong with being a dreamer. There is not. But dreams have ways of turning into nightmares.

I am haunted by the ghost of my father, I think that should allow me to quote Hamlet as much as I please.

I mean only that I hope they find darkness or paradise without fear of it, if they can.

I like to call it nighttime brain: the way your mind seems to function on a different frequency than it does during daylight hours - which can be good or bad but also can lead to unexpected epiphanies or experiences that wouldn't be the same at any other time of day.

Esse quam videri," Celia says. "To be, rather than to seem.

I made a wish on this tree years ago," Marco says. "What did you wish for?" Bailey asks. Marco leans forward and whispers in Bailey's ear. "I wished for her.