“A love affair is a grafting operation. "What has once been joined never forgets". There is a moment when the graft takes; up to then it is possible without difficulty the separation which afterwards comes only through breaking off a great hunk of oneself; the ingrown fibre of hours, days, years.”
“Breathe, Newberry. If you faint in the Blacksmith’s laboratory, only the stars above know what might be grafted to your body when you wake up.”
“Moments into minutes. Minutes into hours. Hours into days. Days into years. Years into possibility. This will linger.”
“Love is only a feeling of curiousity more or less intense, grafted upon the inclination placed in us by nature that the species may be preserved.”
“Conversion is not the smooth, easy-going process some men seem to think... It is wounding work, this breaking of the hearts, but without wounding there is no saving... Where there is grafting there will always be a cutting, the graft must be let in with a wound; to stick it onto the outside or to tie it on with a string would be of no use. Heart must be set to heart and back to back or there will be no sap from root to branch. And this, I say, must be done by a wound, by a cut.”
“In hatred is love, we grow like the thing we brood upon. What we loathe, we graft into our very soul.”