“She'd always been a little contemptuous of beauty, as though it was something you had to trade away some other vital thing for.”

“Silly little plastic belt, made for a skinny pinny; it could barely tie around her. She managed, though - a tiny white bow. Waiting, she folded her hands and realized how every single time she went by this hospital, the same two thoughts occurred to her: that she'd been born here and that her father's body had been brought here after his suicide. She'd been through some things, but never mind. She straightened her back. Other people had been through things, too.”

“There had always been something to worry him ever since he could remember, always something that distracted him in the pursuit of beauty. For he did pursue beauty, and, therefore, Margaret's speeches did flutter away from him like birds.”

“She managed to finger-comb her hair into some kind of order, though it was a little too punk for her peace of mind. Not that she'd ever minded looking punk; in fact, the cut had been designed for that effect. But right now Reno was punk enough for both of them.”

“What a waste of beauty, what a waste of knowledge a sudden death can inflict, like spilling something vital away into dry soil.”

“The beauty of the ultrasound scan is something that only parents can appreciate, but Emma had seen these things before and knew what was required of her. ‘Beautiful,’ she sighed, though in truth it could have been a Polaroid of the inside of his pocket.”