“Henry loves my hair almost as though it is a creature unto itself, as though it has a soul to call its own, as though it could love him back.”

“I think about cutting my hair. How nice it would be to wash it, run a quick comb through it, and presto! all set, ready to rock and roll. I sigh. Henry loves my hair almost as though it were a creature unto itself, as though it has a soul to call its own, as though it could love him back. I know he loves it as a part of me, but I also know he would be deeply upset if I cut it off. And I would miss it, too… it's just so much effort, sometimes I want to take it off like a wig and set it aside while I go out and play.”

“Love the world and yourself in it, move through it as though it offers no resistance, as though the world is your natural element.”

“When I am dead, stop waiting and be free. Of me — put me deep inside you and then go out in the world and live. Love the world and yourself in it. Move though it as though it offers no resistance, as though the world is your natural element.”

“. . .Tell me, Clare: why on earth would a lovely girl like you want to marry Henry?'Everything in the room seems to hold its breath. Henry stiffens but doesn't say anything. I lean forward and smile at Mr. DeTamble and say, with enthusiasm, as though he has asked me what flavor of ice cream I like best: 'Because he's really, really good in bed.' In the kitchen there's a howl of laughter. Mr. DeTamble glances at Henry, who raises his eyebrows and grins, and finally even Mr. DeTamble smiles, and says 'Touché, my dear.”

“Henry loves me. Henry is here, finally, now, finally. And I love him.”

“Julia thought him beautiful, though she knew it was the beauty of damage.”