Growth and change were viewed as reactions to conditions met

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

What had survived - maybe all that had survived of Trism - was Liir's sense of him. A catalog of impressions that arose from time to time, unbidden and often upsetting. From the sandy smell of his sandy hair to the locked grip of his muscles as they had wrestled in sensuous aggression - unwelcome nostalgia. Trism lived in Liir's heart like a full suit of clothes in a wardrobe, dress habillards maybe, hollow and real at once. The involuntary memory of the best of Trism's glinting virtues sometimes kicked up unquietable spasms of longing.

What goes unnamed remains hard to correct.

How poetic you are," she said. "I've a notion that poetry is the highest form of self-deception.

Behold the male beast roaring in the jungle for his mate," said Elphaba. "See how the female beast giggles behind a shrub while she organizes her face to say, Pardon dear, did you say something?

Not an ugly color, Nanny thought. Just not a human color.