I am; I was. I want to be.

You'll have pie in the sky when you die.

I hope if there is another world, we will not be judged too harshly for the things we did wrong here—that we will at least be forgiven for the mistakes we made out of love.

She liked things that had been written by people who had lived short, ugly, and tragic lives. Or, who at least, were English.

You can't let facts get in the way of the truth.

... people made the imaginary real all the time: taking the music they heard in their head and recording it, seeing a house in their imagination and building it. Fantasy was always only a reality waiting to be switched on.

Already, though, she understood the difference between being a child and being an adult. The difference is when someone says he can keep the bad things away, a child believes him.