...looking at him makes her feel like laughing all over - as if she could laugh not just with her mouth but with her eyes, her heart, her very limbs.

The thing about a mirror is this: The one who stares into it is condemned to consider the world from her own perspective.

He had thought love as a policy made a lot of sense for those who could manage it, and anyone who could manage it belonged in religious life. The rest of us have to struggle with more ordinary love, the common or garden variety: love as a crippling condition. Love as a syndrome.

As long as people are going to call you lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention.

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

Everyone dies. It's a question of where and how, that's all.

Forget us, forget us all, it makes no difference now, but don't forget we loved it when we were alive.