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Say, Himemiya… these paintings… the model in them… is it you?

In the cause of silence, each of us draws the face of her own fear — fear of contempt, of censure, or some judgment, or recognition, of challenge, of annihilation. But most of all, I think, we fear the visibility without which we cannot truly live.

“Please, Aminata.” All those stolen hours in the larder making codes. They must still count for something. “You can still call me Baru.”

Mabel Martin, what do you see in the heart of the collapsing star?
This house. The kingdom beyond the firmament. I saw you. I saw you. I saw you.

I told you, Madoka. I’ll never let you go again.

Does it smell like a school gymnasium in here? It’s funny how they’re all the same.

If it’s for someone you love…how you feel about others doesn’t matter. You keep lying to yourself for as long as it takes.

To learn which questions are unanswerable, and not to answer them: this skill is most needful in times of stress and darkness.

He turns over a seashell and calls back to his brother. She writes their name on an envelope and makes really sure it’s sealed. The storm creates a mudslide, and it’s a joy to see how soft I am. She hangs up the frame on the wall and laughs ‘cause it’s empty.

The Captain had started fussing again. Crown, distracted, moved to her side. She said tenderly, “If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be in all this trouble. You thorn, you pest.”

The poet wincing in pain before him, suffering, suffering, for Arthur Less. Will Less ever again be so beloved?

But the humming would likely have given you away eventually, I imagine. Are you aware you do it almost constantly?

If it’s for someone you love…how you feel about others doesn’t matter. You keep lying to yourself for as long as it takes.

Because I am the Rose Bride...because I am a doll with no heart... I thought that no matter what befell my body, my heart wouldn't feel the pain.

No matter what all your teeth and wet fingers anticipated, there was no accounting for the way that simple joy could shake you. How loose the silk. How fine and loose and free.

Where did the genius come from? Where did it go?
Like allowing another lover into the house to live with you, someone you’d never met but whom you knew he loved more than you.

In the cause of silence, each of us draws the face of her own fear — fear of contempt, of censure, or some judgment, or recognition, of challenge, of annihilation. But most of all, I think, we fear the visibility without which we cannot truly live.

Dreams didn't make us kings.

What is love, Arthur? What is it? she asks him. Is it the good dear thing I had with Janet for eight years? Is it the good dear thing? Or is it the lightning bolt? The destructive madness that hit my girl?

I’m just starting to wonder if I was always a blank canvas, even in my youth. I don’t know.
You have one of the biggest sparks I’ve ever seen. You don’t need a pulse for that.

You make it look simple - like you’re not even trying - and the funny thing is that I’ve been trying for such a very long time. I think maybe that’s why I hated you.
I hated you, too, Sister Carpenter.

“If you should see her,” said Glinda lightly, “tell her I miss her still.”

Gucci: We can't stop you from doing this. I can't talk you down.
Brnine: No.
Gucci: What do you need?

I know you as quintessence, apotheosis, world–without–end. I know you as champion of the king. I know you as brightest and best beloved, only hook through my heart, my home, my hill, my everything. Come through. Come through. Burn the fucking door down.

icon of their differences. Neither one could retreat, or move forward. It was silly, and they were stuck, and someone needed to break the spell. But all the Witch could do was insist, “I want those shoes.

Glinda reached out and touched the Witch’s elbow. “They won’t make your father love you any better,” she said.
The Witch pulled back. They stood glaring at each other. They had too much common history to come apart over a pair of shoes, yet the shoes were planted between them, a grotesque

But what if she’s right, Arthur? What if the Sicilians are right? That it’s this earth-shattering thing she felt? Something I’ve never felt. Have you?

But surely the curse was on the land of Oz, not on her. Though Oz had given her a twisted life, hadn’t it also made her capable?

Like after a prairie fire. I saw one, years ago, when we were in Nebraska. It seems like the end of the world. The earth is all scorched and black and everything green is gone. But after the burning the soil is richer, and new things can grow.

might have lingered.