The only wishes that will ever change you are the kind that may, at any moment, eat you whole.

Misfortune and Fortune are eerily similar, but Fortune is a better dresser and more fun at parties.

I will not go on, I thought. I won't. I will throw my soul to the wind and blow into a thousand pieces. I will wash up on a shore somewhere like bleached and broken driftwood. I will dry out in the sun until I-and any gift I ever had-shrivel into the sand.

People weren't firecrackers who burst into the night sky with brilliance and glory, and a moment later faded away to nothing. Our souls had to be more lasting than that.

I suppose you could pass for a starlet. You do have that femme fatale air about you. Like you crush boys’ dreams in your spare time.

Perhaps selling your children, your future, just happened one bad decision at a time.

Madame Bellwings, Memoir Elf Coordinator, was not at all pleased with this request, because elves who write the memoirs of teenage girls have the habit of returning to the magical realm with atrocious grammar. They can't seem to shake the phrases "watever" and "no way," and they insert the word like into so many sentences that the other elves start slapping them...and for no apparent reason occasionally call out the name Edward Cullen.