“Once upon a time, an angel and a devil fell in love and dared to imagine a new way of living—one without massacres and torn throats and bonfires of the fallen, without revenants or bastard armies or children ripped from their mothers’ arms to take their turn in the killing and dying. Once, the lovers lay entwined in the moon’s secret temple and dreamed of a world that was a like a jewel-box without a jewel—a paradise waiting for them to find it and fill it with their happiness. This was not that world.”
“Once upon a time, [...]. There was a world that was perfectly made and full of birds and striped creatures and lovely things like honey lilies and star tenzing and weasels—[...] And this world already had light and shadow, so it didn't need any rouge stars to come and save it, and it had no use for bleeding suns or weeping moons, either, and most important, it had never known war, which is a terrible and wasteful thing that no world needs. It had earth and water, air and fire, all four elements, but it was missing the last element. Love.[...] And so this paradise was like a jewel box without a jewel. There it lay, day after day of rose-colored dawns and creature sounds and strange perfumes, and waited for lovers to find it and fill it with their happiness. The end.[...]The story is unfinished. The world is still waiting.”
“Once upon a time, an angel lay dying in the mist.And a devil knelt over him and smiled.”
“After Mary confessed that dream to him, Jack got to wondering how women felt about motherhood once their children are grown and didn't need them anymore. How do they close the storybooks, box up the toys, and pack up the memories of the deeply lived-in childhoods of their babies? Childhoods that fly by quickly and selfishly, without regard to a mother's unconditional love and sacrifice. How does a mother go on being a mother when one day she wakes up and finds that her arms are empty and her grown children are walking away from her without so much as a glance back?”
“Once apon a time, an angel and a devil fell in love. It did not end well.”
“The shadows of leaves fall upon their arms, as they spread the branches apart, but their shoulders are in the sun. The skin of their arms is like a blue mist, but their shoulders are white and glowing, as if the light fell not from above, but rose from under their skin. We watch the leaf which has fallen upon their shoulder and it lies at the curve of their neck, and a drop of dew glistens upon it like a jewel.”