“The sun is the biggest metaphor. The sun is the first candle. She can get there by its light.”

“She watched the sun bleed water out of the icicle. Warm and cold working together to make an icicle. Warm and cold anger working together to make a fury, a fury worthy enough to use as a weapon against the old things that still needed fighting.”

“We start out in identical perfection: bright, reflective, full of sun. The accident of our lives bruises us into dirty individuality. We meet with grief. Our character dulls and tarnishes. We meet with guilt. We know, we know: the price of living is corruption. There isn’t as much light as there once was. In the grave we lapse back into undifferentiated sameness”

“The unvisited grannies, in stone houses by the wheat field, can't remember their husbands or children. They worry their hands, though, hands that could do with a rinsing. The grannies think:We start out in identical perfection: bright, reflective, full of sun. The accident of our lives bruises us into dirty individuality. We meet with grief. Our character dulls and tarnishes. We meet with guilt. We know, we know: the price of living is corruption. There isn't as much light as there once was. In the grave we lapse back into undifferentiated sameness.”

“I'm just doing your tea, Mum," he said. "Are you all imbecilic? Is that a requirement of enlisted men? It's Lady GLINDA!" She was losing it, big time. "Get me Murth!”

“Light will blind us in time, but what we learn in the dark can see us through.”

“It's heaven to know that it's still possible to run, though she doesn't know what she's running from.”