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You are a Witch. I am a Prince. In all the books, where there is a Witch and a Prince there is a way.
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People are clocks who think they wind themselves.
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And the heart of Ivan Nikolayevich broke inside the body of Marya Morevna, and the pieces of him lodged deep in her bones, and through the window, the stars watched.
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The best way to be the kind of girl you want to be is to do what that girl would do.
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A labyrinth, when it is big enough, is just the world.
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But the longer I’m dead, the more I think the universe is a big blackboard with rules scrawled all over it in chalk and stardust and it’s just that the damn thing is flipped over and turned away from us so we can’t see anything but the erase, which death, hitting the floor.
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. . .building is medicine for free.
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It's Latin, which is an excellent language for mischief-making, which is why governments are so fond of it.
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The burnt-off connectors and shadows where Ravan once filled my spaces - those, I think, are the sensations of grief.
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She is so stubborn, her heart has an argument with her head every time it wants to beat.
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“I can never remember my dreams," said the shadow of the Marquess quietly. "You must have had rich, tasty ones then. When you can't remember a dream, it's because a Baku ate it.
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They want only their private toys and candies, and will not share.
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God is a random event, a nexus of pain and pleasure and making and breaking.
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Perhaps memory is a thing that everyone involved has to work at, like stitching up a big quilt out of everything that ever happened to you.
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In both marriage and war you must cut up the things people say like a cake and eat only what you can stomach.
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It's easier to use somebody if you can think of them as mute and dumb and made for your pleasure.
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Things that are unsightly: birthmarks, infidelity, strangers in one's kitchen. Too much sunlight. Stitches. Missing teeth. Overlong guests.
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I ate all of my husbands. First I ate their love, then their will, then their despair, and then I made pies of their bodies – and those bodies were so dear to me!
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Snow White swallows that like a sword. She lets the hammer click back into place. Everything in her that's not nailed down is shaking loose.
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You can be innocent again. It's not true, what they say, that you can never get it back. You can. It's only that most folk cannot be bothered.
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No one belongs when they are new to this world. All children are Changelings.
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I am not a little girl anymore, dazzled by your magic. It is my magic, now, too.
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Did I not come to you on my knees with a kingdom in my hand?
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Horses, in secret, love hats more than any other creature. It is a horse’s tragedy that they can never properly wear one.