“To be rather than to seem.”

“Esse quam videri," Celia says. "To be, rather than to seem.”

“People are naive about such things, and they would rather write them off as evil than attempt to understand them. An unfortunate truth, but a truth nonetheless.”

“There is a movement happening, a quiet one.A low-profile, low-resolution revolution.Comprised of writers and dreamers, of guerrilla artists and thought-ninjas.Those with something to say.They communicate through text inscribed on true public spaces, rather than blogs and forums.Choosing fewer words, even without being bound by 140 character limits.Using ink instead of pixels.Sending messages in living, breathing space.Pens scream louder into the void.Even if permanent ink is not aptly named.”

“Have you tried the cinnamon things?" Poppet asks. "They're rather new. What are they called, Widge?""Fantastically delicious cinnamon things?”

“A woman I should like to think I know rather well and a woman I had always considered a mystery, are in fact the same person.”

“The night that seemed endless hours before is now slipping through your fingers, ticking by as it falls into the past and pushes you towards the future.”