“She glances back before stepping into the alley, and she catches her grandfather looking at her the way he does sometimes--as if she's already gone, as if he's practicing sorrow.”

“How do you know me?" she says.He looks at her through his narrow eyes. "I was," he says."You were what?" she asks."I was," he says again. "And now I'm not.”

“I screamed. You told me not to.” He rubs at the soot on one hand with his thumb, then stares at it. “The dirt,” he says, his voice strangely peaceful.“What about it?” she asks. “It’s dirty.”

“Finally she said, "When I grow up, I'm going to live out here. I'll probably be a Miss Somebody, too..."Don't grow up," I told her. "It only gets more confusing.”

“She knows that whispers can be useful. Sometimes they contain real information. But usually they're fairy tales and lies. This is the worst kind of whisper, the kind that draws you in, gives you hope.”

“Sometimes the only way to fix a mistake- is to make it twice.”

“Beauty, you can find it here if you look hard enough.”