So let my hands and my face make their way in this world, let my hungry eyes see, my tongue taste.

It isn’t hard to find evil in this world. Evil is always more easily imagined than good, somehow.

The world unwraps itself to you, again and again as soon as you are ready to see it anew.

If magic was present, it moved under the skin of the world, beneath the ability of human eyes to catch sight of it.

Elphaba looked like something between an animal and an Animal, like something more than life but not quite Life.

We start out in identical perfection: bright, reflective, full of sun. The accident of our lives bruises us into dirty individuality. We meet with grief. Our character dulls and tarnishes. We meet with guilt. We know, we know: the price of living is corruption. There isn’t as much light as there once was. In the grave we lapse back into undifferentiated sameness

...the reasons just reassemble themselves in different patterns every time I think about it.