There was Layla in the fullness of her lips, Lulu in the thick waves of her hair, Lu Xin in the intensity of her hazel eyes, Lucia in their twinkle. She was not alone. Maybe she never would be alone again. There, in the mirror, was every incarnation of Lucinda staring back at her and wondering, "What is to become of us? What about our history, and our love?

Roland, love means not being afraid to let yourself go, trusting that I will desire everything you have to offer. -Rosaline (Roland's love)

Inspiration is an excuse for doing something you already want to do.

Sometimes love needed a lift from its guardian angels, to get its feet off the ground. But once it made its first early beats toward flight, it had to be trusted to take wing on its own and soar past the highest conceivable heights, into the heavens-and beyond.

Gabbe jumped up and seized the cocanut first, giving its contents a sniff. "Arriane, she has just been through a trama," she scolded. Arriane tossed her shoulders back. "Precisely why she needs something with a kick," she argued, holding the tray possessively while she and Gabbe engaged in a stare-down. "Fine," Arriane said, looking away from Gabbe.

The past is important for all the information and wisdom it holds. But you can get lost in it. You've got to learn to keep the knowledge of the past with you as you pursue the present.

I've already had to wait so long." "How long?" Luce asked. "Not so long that I've forgotten that you're worth everything. Every sacrifice. Every pain.