He wished someone in the course of history had thought of striking that word and all its derivatives from the English Language - happy, happier, happiest, happiness. What the devil did the words really mean anyway? Why not just the word pleasure, which was far more... well, pleasant.

Always guarding one's real, precious self in a cocoon of tranquility within a thousand masks. Life itself had become a secret affair.

There is no happily-ever-after to run to. We have to work for happiness.

If you have always suspected your sister of an inclination to madness, it will be my pleasure to confirm your worst fears.

He gazed up at the blue sky and knew that heaven—at least in this life—was neither a time nor a place to be grasped and made into a possession. It came in fleeting moments and then went away again to leave one nostalgic and yearning and on the verge of tears. Very much on the verge of tears. And very frightened.

Even friends need private spaces, if only within the depths of their own souls, where no one else is allowed to intrude.

It was so much more comfortable to be able to divide people into heroes and villains and expect them to play their allotted part.