“Tis a far cry from home for a poor lonely thing,O'er the deeps and wild waters of seas,Where you can't hear your dear mother's voice softly singLike a breeze gently stirring the trees.Come home, little one, wander back here someday,I'll watch for you, each evening and morn,Through all the long season 'til I'm old and greyAs the frost on the hedges at dawn.There's a lantern that shines in my window at night,I have long kept it burning for you,It glows through the dark, like a clear guiding light,And I know someday you'll see it, too.So hasten back, little one, or I will soon be gone,No more to see your dear face,But I know that I'll feel your tears fall one by one,On the flowers o'er my resting place.”

“I'd rather be the half of us, the least of you, the best of me; and I will be - I'll be your prince, I'll be your saint, I will go crashing through fences in your name; I will, I swear - I'll be someone to fall back on. I'll be the one who waits, and for as long as you let me, I will be the one you need - I'll be someone to fall back on.”

“I will be your friend,' I said. 'I will go home to my mother's house the way I did when I skinned my knees as a little girl. I'll go and let myself be consoled by my roses, my palm trees, my enormous volcanoes in San Salvador. When you are old, maybe you'll come and see me someday.”

“Some people wouldn't see a traitor when they looked at me. Some people would see a survivor. Call me anything you like—I sleep fine at night. But you will look at me when you say it. Or I'll get so far in your face you'll be seeing me with your eyes closed. You'll be seeing me in your nightmares. I'll scorch myself on the backs of your eyelids. Get off my back and stay off it. I'm not the woman I used to be. If you want a war with me, you'll get one. Just try me. Give me an excuse to go play in that dark place inside my head.”

“If you weren't here I wouldn't see it," said Ingram, firmly believing it in the face of the fact that nothing ever escaped his acute vision. "I see all this only through you. You are my eyes. Without you I go blind, I grope about with the light gone out. You don't know what you are to me, you little shining crystal thing—you don't begin to realise it, my dear, my dear sweet Found-at-Last.”

“Dinosaurs drank this water, did you know that? Water moves forever in a circle; someday, little ones, your grandchildren may even drink your tears.”