“I find my voice and manage to say those three one-syllable words back to him. Words I haven't uttered in a very, very long time. Words that meant nothing before now.”

“Spy' is such a short ugly word. I prefer 'espionage.' Those extra three syllables really say something.”

“I love you." Why it worked right then, why the webbing of my godmother's spell frayed as though the words had been an open flame, I don't know. I haven't found any explanation for it. There aren't any magical words, really. The words just hold the magic. They give it a shape and a form, they make it useful, describe the images within. I'll say this, though: Some words have a power that has nothing to do with supernatural forces. They resound in the heart and mind, they live long after the sounds of them have died away, they echo in the heart and the soul. They have power, and that power is very real. Those three words are good ones.”

“The Three Oddest WordsWhen I pronounce the word Future,the first syllable already belongs to the past.When I pronounce the word Silence,I destroy it.When I pronounce the word nothing,I make something no nonbeing can hold.”

“Now this is very profound, what rhythm is, and goes far deeper than words. A sight, an emotion, creates this wave in the mind, long before it makes words to fit it ...”

“The motherfucker really finds a way to say something very simple in a very complicated way,” murmured Jean near Dan’s ear. “How many words does it take him to say ‘I love you’?” “None.” Dan murmured, smiling. “We’re long beyond that.”