One keeps searching for ease, she did not say, and not finding it, till the memories of no-pain seem only like daydreams.

One doesn't generally look into mirrors when one is especially angry; one has better things to do, like pace the floor or throw things.

I said: "He cannot be so bad if he loves roses so much." "But he is a Beast," said Father helplessly. I saw that he was weakening, and wishing only to comfort him I said, "Cannot a Beast be tamed?"

People forgot; it was in the nature of people to forget, to blur boundaries, to retell stories to come out the way they wanted them to come out, to remember things as how they ought to be instead of how they were.

I said with perfect honest, "I have no intention of trying to take these suckers out by myself, no.

He looked at her rather as a man looks at a problem that he would very much prefer to do without. She supposed it was a distinction of a sort to be a harassment to a king.

The story is always better than your ability to write it.