The words were strung in the air like garland. She could almost see them.

He might be tall enough to see into tomorrow, but he hadn’t looked there in a long, long time. He’d forgotten how bright it was. So bright he could hardly stand it.

Her life was monotonous, but it kept her out of trouble. . . . This, her father would say, was called being an adult.

Fate never promises to tell you everything up front. You aren't always shown the path in life you're supposed to take. But if there was one thing she'd learned in the past few weeks, it was that sometimes, when you're really lucky, you meet someone with a map.

Magic is what we invent when we want something we think we cant have.

Everything had felt so precarious since her mother's death, like she was walking on a bridge made of paper.

When you're happy for yourself, it fills you. When you're happy for someone else, it pours over.