The rules of magic, my dear, are best not discusses. For once we understand the illusion, we no longer believe it.

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

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We sit and listen and are enthralled anew, for good stories, it seems, never lose their magic.

They don't know what they're in for at Spence, getting me, a ghost of a girl who'll nod and smile and take her tea but who isn't really here.

The trouble with morning is that it comes well before noon.

I shan't ever understand your willingness to lie down and die," Felicity bars. "If you won't at least try to fight, I have no sympathy for you.