newborns reminded her of tiny buddhas

What you didn't tell someone was just as debilitating as what you did.

I don't think we get a choice in who we fall for," Ian whispers. "I think we just do.

What's worse ...? The devil you don't know ... or the devil you do?

I smiled at him as best I could and pushed the paper across the table before he could change his mind. Because Henry DeVille was correct - there was an ingredient in my baking more concenctrated than any extract, more pungent than any spice; an ingredient that everyone would recognize and no one was able to name: it was regret, and it rose when one least expected.

Then they scrambled through the window and into the darkness, determined to turn themselves into what they were not.

We are all, I suppose, beholden to our parents - the question is, how much?