Oh, I've a love, a true, true love, who waits upon yon shore... and if my love won't be my love, then I will live no more.

But aren't many gardens beautiful because they are imperfect?...aren't the strange, new flowers that arise by mistake or misadventure as pleasing as the well-tended and planned?

Because you can't keep up the illusion forever," I say. "No one has that much magic.

You are truly Satan's sequined spawn.

The mere suggestion of fame and fortune casts a glamour all its own. It is rather alarming how quickly people will turn someone else's fiction into fact in order to support their own fictions of themselves.

If God has nothing better to do than punish schoolgirls for a bit of tomfoolery, then I've no use for God.

Didn't you have any sadistic nannies who told you these tales to keep you quiet and well behaved at night? Heavens, what's to become of the Empire if governesses have lost their touch for scaring the wits out of their girls?