“Yes, Marya thought, the smell of woodsmoke and old snow pushing back her long black hair. Magic does that. It wastes you away. Once it grips you by the ear, the real world gets quieter and quieter, until you can hardly hear it at all.”

“Magic does that. It wastes you away. Once it grips you by the ear, the real world gets quieter and quieter, until you can hardly hear it at all.”

“The quieter you become, the more you can hear.”

“Cold and silence. Nothing quieter than snow. The sky screams to deliver it, a hundred banshees flying on the edge ofthe blizzard. But once the snow covers the ground, it hushes as still as my heart.”

“Maybe I can quit drinking one of these days. They all say that, don't they?""It takes about three years.""Three years?" He looked shocked. "Usually it does. It's a different world. You have to get used to a paler set of colors, a quieter lot of sounds. You have to allow for relapses. All the people you used to know well will get to be just a little strange. You won't even like most of them, and they won't like you too well.”

“Trust this: drinking until you go away from the world only wastes moments of your life. All that time is lost. And time and love are incredibly precious. Yes? Don't waste either.”