For in every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be.

We are not meant to know the time or the nature of our deaths (for all of us secretly hope that we may be immortal).

They were on the side of the angels, even if the angels weren't entirely sure that this was a good thing.

Being scared isn't the problem. It's not running away that's the hard part.

We all have our routines," he said softly."But they must have a purpose and provide an outcome that we can see and take some comfort from, or else they have no use at all. Without that, they are like the endless pacings of a caged animal. If they are not madness itself, then they are a prelude to it.

...it was imaginative people who tended to lie. Lying required making stuff up, and only imaginative people were good at that.

Without a human voice to read them aloud, or a pair of wide eyes following them by flashlight beneath a blanket, they had no real existence in our world. They were like seeds in the beak of a bird, waiting to fall to earth, or the notes of a song laid out on a sheet, yearning for an instrument to bring their music into being.