"you couldn't depend on much in this world, but you could depend on this: love brought nothing but death. where love existed, death would follow, a wolf trailing father a wounded deer"

"better to do what was right than to be kind."

"tears like the strange wet that streaked down human faces, but these were her own they were hot like blood.it felt like she was bleeding, like she was wounded."

"love was what made you invite death, wish for it, crave it, just so that you could be freed from your own pain"

"maybe I should just give up now. but if i give up, then what have i been living for?" "wich was worse, vulnerability or loneliness? the danger of friendship or the safety of total isolation?"

"for some reason, Ayla's outrage — over a story, over her words, over, maybe her — made Crier smile. A thought came to her: a story of its own, one that had only just begun writing itself in her mind: a story of two women, one human, one Made, who told ancient faerie stories to each other. who splashed each other at the edge of the water. who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death into the darkness of a ate autumn evening."