It’s one thing if a person learns you’re a witch. It’s quite another if he learns you’re a murderer. I almost forget I’m a witch now that I know I’m a murderer—murderess, actually. Murderess sounds so much worse.

It's the picnic principle. Things taste better outdoors. And if it's a forbidden thing, so much the better.

How can something as fragile as a word build the whole world?

Now that’s true poetic irony. I rush into battle to defend the fair name of Rose Larkin, and what does she do but fetch Robert to stop me.

Secrets press inside a person. They press the way water presses at a dam. The secrets and the water, they both want to get out.

If you don't argue, you can't give in.

Meaning. If you're going to die, you want to find meaning in life. You want to connect the dots.