Oh, you're one of those,' the princess said. 'One of what?' 'One of those who needs to be told their worth over and over by others. Do you know who tells me my worth, Phaedra of Alonso?' The princess pointed a hard finger at her own chest. 'Me. I determine my own worth. If I had to rely on others I'd have lain down and died waiting.

You can't think for other people. Nor can you feel for them or be them. They have to do that for themselves.

It's called peaceful coexistence, Santangelo. You should try it and if it works we may sell the idea to the Israelis and Palestinians

They always prided themselves on looking youthful. “Forty’s the new thirty,” they’d joke. Until heartbreak and grief enter your life, and then forty’s the new one hundred.

I recognise Santangelo's dad, who saves police brutality for when he gets to his son.

This isn't romance. This isn't a declaration of love or affirmation of friendship. This is something more.

And life goes on, which seems kind of strange and cruel when you're watching someone die. But there's a joy and an abundance of everything, like information and laughter and summer weather and so many stories.