“I didn’t feel anything but a bone-deep weariness. Like I was suddenly a hundred years old, and I knew at that moment I would have to live a hundred more years, carrying my grief around like a backpack full of stones.”

“I thought about you all the time. I used to pray that you’d live to be a hundred years old. I didn’t know. I didn’t know that you were ashamed of me.”

“God, did they know? A year made the world of difference! This was one more year I could be with Jason, one more year I could live! I signed up for three hundred years. . . not three hundred and one!”

“As a wee two hundred-year-old, I decided the south of England was much to my liking. A wee bit warmer and I prefer barbecuing my English sheep.”

“And I don’t want his body touching something I wear. He’ll contaminate it. (Sasha)Oh, good grief, Sasha. Grow up. You’re four hundred years old and you’re acting like a whelp. It’s not like he has cooties or anything. (Astrid)Yes he does! (Sasha)”

“I would really like, in fact, to be born again in another two hundred years' time.”