“I hadn't seen Reth since he had come to visit me in the hospital after I released the souls, and I never wanted to again.Him or any of the other creepy, manipulative, amoral, psychotic, insert-furhter-negative-adjectives-of-your-choice-here faeries. Especially after today, if the sylph was with them. I wasn't about to draw their attention to me by holding hands through the Faerie Paths.She smiled. "I understand. In fact, one of my first initiatives was weaning IPCA from faerie magic dependancy. I think you'll be pleased to find that we now use them a mere forty percent of the amount we used to.""Forty percent, huh? That's still about one hundred percent more than I'm happy with.”

“I said home." He laughed again. "You didn't say whose." Furious and too tired to deal with any more faerie crap, I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where to take me and where he could go after that. I wasn't sure a faerie could obey a command to go to hell, but I was going to find out.”

“I've been actively engaged with mythic imagery ever since I picked up that Rackham book, but it really came into focus for me when I moved from London to the country. As I walked the extraordinary landscape of Dartmoor, I looked at the trees and the rocks and the hills and I could see the personality in those forms...then they metamorphosed under my pencil into faeries, goblins and trolls. After Alan and I published "Faeries", he moved on from the subject of faery folklore to illustrate Tolkien and other literary works...while I discovered that my own exploration of Faerieland had only just begun. In the countryside, the old stories seemed to come alive around me; the faeries were a tangible aspect of the landscape, pulses of spirit, emotion, and light. They "insisted" on taking form under my pencil, emerging on the page before me cloaked in archetypal shapes drawn from nature and myth. I'd attracted their attention, you see, and they hadn't finished with me yet.”

“Where are you?" he asked. "I'm right here" she said. "I know, but it feels like one percent of you is somewhere else, where is that one percent?" he said. "I don't know....I think I'm always like that..." she answered. "I like that." "You do?" "Yes, because that way, I have to always look for the one percent to find it.”

“—except for the fact that your scars mean you’ve been hurting, I am one-hundred-percent cool with having them in the painting. Some models, especially the professional ones, it’s like painting air-brushed people. Give me something raw any day.”

“So Haymitch, what do you think of the games have one hundred percent more competitors than usual?” asks Caesar.Haymitch shrugs. “I don’t see that it makes that much difference. They’ll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same.”