She's got a big belt around her hips. It has a shiny buckle with PRADA on it, which is Italian for insecure.

There is a ghost here. A lonely, heartbroken spirit. The ghost of everything that could've been and never was.

Why is it that weeks and months and years go by so quickly, all in a blur, but moments last forever?

Had you but seen it, I promise you, your high-minded principles would have melted like candle wax. Never would you have wished such beauty away.

Stop yelling. If everyone’s yelling, no one can be heard.

Cripes Miss Wilcox, they're not guns,' I said. No, they're not Mattie, they're books. And a hundred times more dangerous.

Her grey eyes sparkled with passion as she spoke. Sid looked into them and for a second he glimpsed her soul. He saw what she was - fierce and brave. Upright. Impatient. And good. So good that she would sit covered in gore, shout at dangerous men, and keep a long, lonely vigil - all to save the likes of him. He realized she was a rare creature, as rare as a rose in winter.