And now I understand that truth casts a spell of its own, one I'm not sure of how to hold on to, though I'm desperate to try.

The uncertainty of our future is nothing more than a fog of breath on a windowpane.

She loved attention. It was like a glass of the best champagne—bubbly and intoxicating—and as with champagne, she always wanted more of it. Still, she didn’t want to seem like an easy mark. “If you must know, I’ve come to join a convent,” Evie said, testing him.

My cholera's acting up again.

She holds up a finger. "I'm getting to it. Don't rush a girl in the middle of her exposition.

I am starting a collection of only right-hand gloves. It’s ever so bourgeois to have two.

Board the cows! We've come to enslave your marigolds.