“For a moment the mole let his disappointment show on his snout. Then he grunted, "You're much smarter than you smell." Liza let out a whoop of satisfaction and chose not to worry too much about what stupidity smelled like.”

“it occurs to me that there is so much I never knew about him--his past, his role in the resistance, what his life was like in the Wilds, before he came to Portland, and I feel a flash of grief so intense it almost makes me cry out: not for what I lost, but for the chances I missed.”

“What does it feel like to be infected?""I-- I can't describe it." I force the words out. Can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe. His skin smells like smoke from a wood fire, like soap, like heaven. I imagine tasting his skin; I imagine biting his lips. "I want to know." His words are a whisper, barely audible. "I want to know with you.”

“Let me show you”

“I know some of you areThinking maybe I deserved it.But before you start pointingFringers, let me ask youIs what I did really so bad?So bad I deserved to die?So bad I deserved to die like that?Is what I did really much worseThen what anybody else does?Is it really so much worseThan what you do?”

“Maybe he sees it on my face, that fraction of a second whenI let my guard down, because in that moment his expression softens and his eyesgo bright as flame and even though I barely see him move, suddenly he hasclosed the space between us and he’s wrapping his warm hands over myshoulders—fingers so warm and strong I almost cry out—and saying, “Lena. Ilike you, okay? That’s it. That’s all. I like you.” His voice is so low and hypnoticit reminds me of a song. I think of predators dropping silently from trees: I thinkof enormous cats with glowing amber eyes, just like his.”

“What is beauty? Beauty is no more than a trick; a delusion; the influence of excited particles and electrons colliding in your eyes, jostling in your brain like a bunch of overeager school children, about to be released on break. Will you let yourself be deluded? Will you let yourself be decieved?-"On Beauty and Falsehood," The New Philosophy, by Ellen Dorpshire”