“People at work eyed me with varying degrees of suspicion or approbation, and a couple of them mistook me for the kind of guy who knew twelve different ways to tie a scarf and whether that scarf clashed with their purse. My helpful tip that most accessories were just needless expenses met with disappointment.”

“My mother, she killed me,My father, he ate me,My sister Marlene,Gathered all my bones,Tied them in a silken scarf,Laid them beneath the juniper tree,Tweet, tweet, what a beautiful bird am I.”

“Do you want your scarf back?' I asked.'No, just the girl who goes with it.'Oh my gosh, that guy knows his lines.”

“Were they laughing at me? I forced myself to block them from my mind, to concentrate on the lake, the water. What were they to me? People I met today, that was all. We shared blood. The One who mattered to me still found me worthy, still loved me, whether I knew when to curtsy properly or not.”

“A scarf from her dress works free and floats behind her the way memories float behind the dead.”

“Wear that scarf," he said, pointing to a blue cashmere scarf hanging on a peg. "It matches your eyes."Alec looked at it. Suddenly he was filled with hate - for the scarf, for Magnus, and most of all for himself. "Don't tell me," he said. "The scarf's a hundred years old, and it was given to you by Queen Victoria right before she died, for special services to the Crown or something."Magnus sat up. "What's gotten into you?"Alec stared at him. "Am I the newest thing in this apartment?""I think that honor goes to Chairman Meow. He's only two.""I said newest, not youngest," Alec snapped.”