She'd thought love had something to do with happiness, but it turned out they were not even vaguely related. Love was closer to a need, no different from the need to eat, to breathe.

We'll have freedom, love and health/When the grand red flag is flying, In the Workers' Commonwealth.

She breathed deeply of the scent of decaying fiction, disintegrating history, and forgotten verse, and she observed for the first time that a room full of books smelled like dessert: a sweet snack made of figs, vanilla, glue, and cleverness.

Don't believe everything you hear today

Gold don't come off. What's good stays good no matter how much of a beating it takes.

There's only room for one hero in this story-and everyone knows the devil doesn't get to be the good guy.

I am; I was. I want to be.