“that's becuase you're my angel. Angel by name, angel by nature.”

“Helen stood up., "Accept that the universe is an apparently random dance. There may be a pattern to it-I think there probably is-but we can't see it from where we are.You have to let the dance happen. You'll love some of it and hate some it.”

“What the hell was that supposed to mean anyway? I'm yours. My what? My slave, my guardian angel, my own personal pain in the ass?”

“Rosehill was shady and beautiful, the most serene place I could imagine. It had been closed to the public for years, and sometimes as I wandered alone - and often lonely - through the lush fern beds and long curtains of silvery moss, I pretended the crumbling angels were wood nymphs and fairies and I their ruler, queen of my own graveyard kingdom.”

“You are not a devil, you're an angel. My angel.”

“So you're an angel, fine, that's terrific. Now give me back my shadows. (Uncle Chaim and Aunt Rifke and the Angel)”

“She sat down at a table, with books piled high around her and began looking through them rapidly, looking for some information concerning marriage with mortals. Dust rose from the books and swirled about her, dancing and glittering wherever the light struck it.Mika leaned over her shoulder curiously, repeating softly to himself some of the incantations he read there. At once there were faint rustlings and sighs in the air.“Stop, stop!” Flumpdoria cried. “You silly thing, do you want all the jinns and genii in the world bumping about in this room? Don’t say those spells aloud. And stop looking over my shoulder. It gives me the creeps.”