“You're missing the point! ... We could make it rain cupcakes from the sky! Raspberry-jam pies would grow on trees, and chocolate rabbits would poop chocolate buttons!”

“A cupcake temple?' Her chest still tight with anxiety, Bertie forced herself to imagine it: bricks of pound cake mortared with buttercream and chocolate ganache, torches like striped birthday candles set into the walls, pilgrims upon the Path of Delectable Righteousness delivering daily tributes of almond paste and raspberry filling. . . .”

“PEASEBLOSSOMA gloaming peace this evening with it bringsIn the countryside where we lay our sceneToad-ballad accompan'd, crickets sing,and cupcake crumbs make fairy hands unclean.An indignant Moth squeaked, "There were cupcakes?!”

“A blind man could see that man would die for you, but that doesn't mean you won't die alongside him.”

“Ariel looked at her then, instead of the sky, instead of the horizon that surely beckoned to him. “Out of a thousand different winds, I think I can resist nine hundred and ninety-nine of them.Now she was the one unable to swallow. “And the last one?” "That one wrenches the beating heart from my chest, the blood from my veins, the marrow from my bones.” Grasping her hand, he brought it up to his face and rubbed it against his cheek. Pain radiated from his pale skin, from his eyes, from his lips when they grazed her knuckles. “You’ve two birds to do your bidding, my fair huntress, but I want you to choose me, to love me above all others, to make the pain in my soul worthwhile… or I would be free of you.”

“It is a truth universally acknowledged that a fairy in possesion of a good appetite must be in want of pie.”

“He pulled her close. “Someday, I will win your trust, and you will be the one to set me free. I know it.” “I won’t.” Bertie recoiled from both him and the assertion she would do such a thing. “Not ever.”Ariel made no move to touch her again, though his words were a caress. “Don’t make promises you won’t be able to keep.”