“In our world," said Eustace, "a star is a huge ball of flaming gas."Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is, but only what it is made of.”

“Danny, whose body made Miller forget the world and whose soul, even marked with shadows, made Miller believe in something beyond the stars.”

“As often as we made love I remembered what my poet told me, that this man was born of a goddess, the force that moves the stars and the waves of the sea and couples the animals in the fields in spring, the power of passion, the light of the evening star.”

“Our own star! Like the world's been made just for us! With the sunshine and the ocean. We have each other all to ourselves.”

“A galaxy is composed of gas and dust and stars - billions upon billions of stars. Every star may be a sun to someone.”

“Star Trek?” I asked her. “Really?” “What?” she demanded, bending unnaturally black eyebrows together. “There are two kinds of people in the universe, Molly,” I said. “Star Trek fans and Star Wars fans. This is shocking.” She sniffed. “This is the post-nerd-closet world, Harry. It’s okay to like both.” “Blasphemy and lies,” I said.”