“She'd stood by that creed. No softness, because the world wasn't soft; lots of laughter, because if you were in on the joke, the joke couldn't be on you; And no wanting what you couldn't take, because the world never gave.Or so she'd thought.”

“She'd read in novels of people who couldn't speak because their hearts were too full and she'd always thought, Not my black heart. But now she couldn't speak, because it was too much, whatever it was.”

“But she'd lost a good deal of her innocence there, because she'd discovered so much she couldn't control.”

“Who are you?" because even now, she couldn't let her questions go. "What are you?"That face that wasn't a face smiled. It was the most terrible thing she'd ever see, ever. "Magnus" he said. "I'm the end.”

“It wasn't that funny, but I laughed. There wouldn't be much laughter in the world if people didn't like each other, because there sure as shit aren't that many good jokes.”

“And that was the thing: you couldn't just stand there gawking at the world. A car slipped by. Then another. It was as if she'd stood frozen by the river of the world and gratefully stepped back into it, resuming her place... The world waited, cold, grim, alive, beautiful. There was no saying no to it.”