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

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

It wasn't quite a question. It was more of an invitation to tell him whatever I chose. Eldric game me a choice, and it was this that made me want to tell him everything.

Should I ever again sink into illness, I'm sure I'll remember Eldric. I'll remember he cared for me. I'll remember that someone had at least taken the time to touch my face.

It's strange how a person can have a distinct distaste for herself, but still she clutches on to life.

When we were small, Rose and I used to play a game called connect the dots. I loved it. I loved drawing a line from dot number 1 to dot number 2 and so on. Most of all, I loved the moment when the chaotic sprinkle of dots resolved itself into a picture. That's what stories do. They connect the random dots of life into a picture. But it's all an illusion. Just try to connect the dots of life. You'll end up with a lunatic scribble.

Witches don’t look like anything. Witches are. Witches do.