“He crossed the stage, pushed the bench back and sat, hands resting on the keyboard cover. After a moment, he took off the cloth, and uncovered the keyboard. He rested his fingers on the keys, but didn’t depress them, simply sitting there for a moment, in the dark and silent auditorium, and closed his eyes. He belonged here. Not on a stage, but with a piano. It was the only place he felt alive. The groupies, the concerts, the strangely worshipful perks of fame, none of them made him feel complete like these moments alone did.”

“But the past determines who we are, and it has led to this sartling future.”

“Perhaps true faith is a form of insanity.”

“Write. Publish. Repeat.”

“Reese, honey, victims are victims when they remain quiet. They gain power when they speak out.”

“Our subconscious works in metaphors, stories, and word play. That's why a particular story or movie may mean more to some people than to others. Have you considered why you quest for this tale now?”

“She found him standing before the water staring unseeing at its frozen surface. He was shivering. She watched him doubtfully for a moment. 'Po,' she said to his back, where’s your coat?''Where’s yours?'She moved to stand beside him. 'I’m warm.'He tilted his head to her. 'If you’re warm and I’m coatless, there’s only one friendly thing for you to do.''Go back and get your coat for you?'He smiled. Reaching out to her, he pulled her close against him. Katsa wrapped her arms around him, surprised, and tried to rub some warmth into his shivering shoulders and back.'That’s it exactly,' Po said. 'You must keep me warm.'She laughed and held him tighter.”