Are you an aberration to your species?' she cried. 'Cats don't look for approval!

We live in our tales of ourselves, she thought, and ignore as best we can the contradictions, and the lapses, and the abrasions of plot against our mortal souls.

...but the tale itself is a trickster and doesn't hesitate to lie. It is anachronistic with a vengeance. It emerges always and everywhere, overt or disguised, pureblood or hybrid, and healthy as sin.

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

He knew about being alone. The weather was always cold there.

Oh now that's a blueprint for an impossibly rosy future

She dreamed of leaving, but she had too little exposure to the world to imagine where to go.