Where I'm from, we believe in all sorts of things that aren't true... we call it history.

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

Always the bridesmaid , never the bride." Always the godfather, never the god".

I shall pray for your soul,' promised Nessarose. I shall wait for your shoes,' Elphie answered.

Starlight and comet tails burned the tips of endless grass below into hammered silver. Like thousands of tapers in the chapel, just blown out but still glowing. If one could drown in the grass...it might be the best way to die.

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

She assumes that skill will guide her fingertips, that shapely lines will uncoil out of the pencil the moment she starts. Surely talent is a thing curled deep inside, just waiting to be exercised, and at the slightest invitation it will stretch, shake itself, make itself known? Talent, it seems, is not so insistent.