And then he was kissing her, and she was struck by his nearness, his solidity, his smell. It was of the garden and the earth and the sun. When Cassandra opened her eyes, she realized she was crying. She wasn't sad, though, these were the tears of being found, of having come home after a long time away.

You'll beat this. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you will. You're a survivor." "I don't want to survive it." "I know that, too," Nell had said. "And it's fair enough. But sometimes we don't have a choice.

It's a terrible thing, isn't it, the way we throw people away?

It's a funny thing, character, the way it brands people as they age, rising from within to leave its scar.

In each man's heart there lies a hole. A dark abyss of need, the filling of which takes precedence over all else.

Percy climbed the first step, then the next, remembering the thousands of times she'd run through the door, in a hurry to get to the future, to whatever was coming next, to this moment.

That, my dear, is what makes a character interesting, their secrets.