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.

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

I hope you don’t mind my joining you,” said Leanne. I minded. After all, she’d tried to kill me. A girl in a novel would say it was hard to believe, but it wasn’t.

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

Yes, I'm shallow, I don't mind admitting it. Perhaps I should admit that there's no end to the depths of my shallowness.

Did I kill him?” I said. “No, miss,” said Robert. “Pity.

You could at least complain,” I say. “I adore complaining. It calms the nerves.