Her voice left a flavor of honey and gunpowder on the air.

A Clock is not time; it's numbers and springs. Pay it no mind.

Only to a magician is the world forever fluid, infinitely mutable and eternally new. Only he knows the secret of change, only he knows truly that all things are crouched in eagerness to become something else, and it is from this universal tension that he draws his power.

Her voice left a flavor of honey and gunpowder on the air.

The horns came riding in like the rainbow masts of silver ships.

He had never missed God or the hope of heaven, but he had dearly wanted confession to rest his mind, Communion to let him touch something beyond Father Krone's dry, shaky hand, and holy water to taste like starlight.

- and you are truly human now. You can love, and fear, and forbid things to be what they are, and overact.