“Remember that there's a time to hate and a time to heal.”

“Just like there's always time for pain, there's always time for healing.”

“Time's never up", she whispered, not looking at me, but at my canvas. "Just like there's always time for pain, there's always time for healing. Of course there is.”

“But that's the hardest part of healing.'What?'Realizing there's no one to hate.”

“Close your eyes and click your heals three times...because there's no place like Dome.”

“Time is a lot of the things people say that God is. There's always preexisting, and having no end. There's the notion of being all powerful-because nothing can stand against time, can it? Not mountains, not armies. And time is, of course, all-healing. Give anything enough time, and everything is taken care of: all pain encompassed, all hardship erased, all loss subsumed. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Remember, man, that thou art dust; and unto dust thou shalt return. And if time is anything akin to God, I suppose that memory must be the devil.”