“...magic was ugly—-a hard bargain with the universe, a calculus of pain.”

“Magic?" Akiva had asked. "What bird does this come from, that its bone are made of magic?""Oh, it's not magic. The wishes don't really come true.""Then why do it?"She shrugged. "Hope? Hope can be a powerful force. Maybe there's no actual magic in it, but when you know what you hope for most and hold it like a light within you, you can make things happen, almost like magic.”

“Hope is the real magic, child.”

“A wave of weariness took him. How could life be so unrelentingly ugly?”

“...something was starting to take shape, out of magic and will. Smoke and bone.”

“Because hope comes from in you, and wishes are just magic.”

“Wishes are false. Hope is true. Hope makes its own magic.”