Even now, Dickon was upstairs, writing sonnets to his new love, while back at Seadown House, Marianne was writing 'Ella' on scraps of paper and then burning them.

And the prince who had once been a bear pulled close the girl who had once had no name, and kissed her.

You were a soldier?" "Yes, sir." "You barely look old enough to have seen the last battle." "My father was a career army man, sir. I was there at the first engagement with Analousia, and took up my father's rifle when I was barely fifteen." "Saints preserve us," Dr. Kelling said, and squeezed Galen's shoulder. "What have we done to our youth?

Love’? What do you know about love?” "It’s at the heart of every story,” Rollo said with authority. “If humans could avoid falling in love, you would never get yourselves into any trouble.

Love you always, miss you always... running day and night, leaving the place of sun and moon, of ice and snow. Never look back, never forget.

Wind does not need translation. It speaks the language of men, of animals and birds, of rocks and trees and earth and sky and water. It does not eat or sleep, or take shelter from the weather. It is the weather. And it lives.

You're very short, aren't you?" She smirked at Petunia. "And you've got a nose like a stoat," Petunia replied. "But at least I can always have my gowns altered.