“What is honour, my dear, when you have nothing to eat?”

“The better to eat you with, my dear.”

“My dear dear lord,The purest treasure mortal times affordIs spotless reputation: that away,Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chestIs a bold spirit in a loyal breast.Mine honour is my life; both grow in one:Take honour from me, and my life is done:Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;In that I live and for that will I die.”

“This is what really happens when fairy tales exist. There is nothing magical or enchanting about it, my dear.”

“Hope is what one relies on when one has no control of one’s fate. We, my dear, have nothing in common with those who rely on hope,” Thaddeus proclaimed.”

“Dear God,I am so afraid to open my clenched fists!Who will I be when I have nothing left to hold on to?Who will I be when I stand before you with empty hands?Please help me to gradually open my handsand to discover that I am not what I own,but what you want to give me.”