...part of the mind's job was to cast doubt on what the heart knew to be true, and the heart, because it had no words, often lost the argument

To write and not tell the truth? That would be death for any writer. But more, it would be death to the imagination. And if the imagination dies, what would happen to the souls of children?

... the object of learning was not to build a better mousetrap but to ask a better question.

The young accept the extraordinary as normal because they do not compare their lives with those of others when everyone is like them.

Just because she's dead it doesn't mean I stopped loving her or that she stopped loving me. It's just her body that left. The love didn't. —Jenna Richards

Often, the human animal dresses terror in rage, and expresses both in a way unlike either.

If I canot know your name, may I light a lamp so I can see your face?' If you sould ever see my face, you will lose me forever.' Why?' Psyche wanted to know. 'Are you ugly? Are you afraid I won't love you if I see your face?' Perhaps I am afraid that if you see my face, it will be THAT that you will love and not me.' I understand, believe me. I know what that feels like.