It's funny about love', Sophia said. 'The more you love someone, the less he likes you back.' 'That's very true,' Grandmother observed. 'And so what do you do?' 'You go on loving,' said Sophia threateningly. 'You love harder and harder.

All things are so very uncertain, and that's exactly what makes me feel reassured.

I mean, anyone can let Danger out but the really clever thing is finding somewhere for it to go afterwards.

Most of the people are homesick anyway, and a little lonely, and they hide themselves in their hair and are turned into flowers.

A very long time ago, Grandmother had wanted to tell about all the things they did, but no one had bothered to ask. And now she had lost the urge.

Anyway, solitary people interest me. There are so many different ways of being solitary.' 'I know just what you mean,' said X. 'I know exactly what you're going to say. Different kinds of solitude. Enforced solitude and voluntary solitude.' 'Quite,' said Viktoria. 'There's no need to go into it further. But when people understand one another without speaking, it can often leave them with very little to talk about, don't you think?

It looks rather ordinary," said the Snork. "Unless you consider that a top hat is always somewhat extraordinary, of course.