Don’t I have a choice in this?” But when she looks behind her, the answer is clear. There are two guards waiting to make sure that she has no choice at all. And as they lead her away, she thinks of Mr. Durkin. With a bitter laugh, Risa realizes that he may get his wish after all. Someday he may see her hands playing in Carnegie Hall. Unfortunately, the rest of Risa won’t be there.

How can you do the right thing when you can't figure out what that is? When all you have before you are choices in various shades of wrong?

This book is so interesting. I always wonder what's going to happen next.

How do you judge the brightness of a light when you’re the source? A spotlight can never see the shadows it casts.

Well...you're a martyr and I'm a patron saint-I can't think of anyone better!

Eventually your body will learn the alliances it has to make with itself,' Kenny had said - as if Cam was a factory full of strike-prone workers, or worse, a clutch of slaves forced into unwanted labor.

Walls don't fall without effort.