“...flaky, crisp, layered, and multi-textured. Which was me. Sweet and sour. Soft and crisp. I discovered that these varied elements, that for so long had seemed at odds, were actually complementary.”

“Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.”

“Death, I had discovered long ago, was available in varying flavors, and none of them particularly palatable. ”

“In this way Penelope's happy and sad feelings got all mixed up together, until they were not unlike one of those delicious cookies they have nowadays, the ones with a flat circle of sugary cream sandwiched between two chocolate-flavored wafers. In her heart she felt a soft, hidden core of sweet melancholy nestled inside crisp outer layers of joy, and if that is not the very sensation most people feel at some point or other during the holidays, then one would be hard pressed to say what is.”

“Earth,” he began, ignoring the impulse to open his notes folder and count the words. He knew this lecture by heart.“Our home. She feeds us, she shelters us. Her gravity prevents us from flying off into space and freezing, before thawing out again and being crisped by the sun, none of which really matters, as we would have long since asphyxiated.” Artemis paused for laughter and was surprised when it did not arrive. “That was a little joke. I read in a presentation manual that a joke often serves to break the ice. And I actually worked icebreaking into the joke, so there were layers to my humor.”

“The dust was deep and crisp and even.”