“You know,” he said, “I wish you could see this cave.”“What’s it like?”He paused. “It’s...beautiful, really.”“Tell me.”And so Po described to Katsa what hid in the blackness of the cave; and outside, the world awaited them.”

“After a minute he said, "It's like-I don't know how to describe it, but it's like I belong with Jade. She really sees me. I mean, not the outside stuff. She sees me inside, and she likes me. Nobody else has ever done that…except you.”

“What are you grinning at?" Katsa demanded for the third or fourth time. "Is the ceiling about to cave in on my head or something? You look like we're both on the verge of an enormous joke.""Katsa, only you would consider the collapse of the ceiling a good joke.”

“You will tell me what you know now," he said."Or?"He said nothing, so I elaborated. "See, this kind of threat usually has an 'or' attached to it. Or an 'and'. 'Tell me and I'll allow you to live' or something like that.”

“He'll be cross if he sees I have been crying. They don't like you to cry. He doesn't cry. I wish to God I could make him cry. I wish I could make him cry and tread the floor and feel his heart heavy and big and festering in him. I wish I could hurt him like hell.He doesn't wish that about me. I don't think he even knows how he makes me feel. I wish he could know, without my telling him. They don't like you to tell them they've made you cry. They don't like you to tell them you're unhappy because of them. If you do, they think you're possessive and exacting. And then they hate you. They hate you whenever you say anything you really think. You always have to keep playing little games. Oh, I thought we didn't have to; I thought this was so big I could say whatever I meant. I guess you can't, ever. I guess there isn't ever anything big enough for that.”

“You need to see things, REALLY see them, feel them, live them, so you know what’s big and what’s little, what matters and what to put aside.”