“Susannah." My dance partner's breath was soft against my cheek. "Susannah...."Yeah. In my dreams.In real life, the voice calling my name wasn't a bit masculine. That's because it belonged to a twelve-year-old boy.”

“Do people in the twenty-first century still dance?"My heart beat thundered in my ears, far louder than the slow music. "Um," I said, barely able to swallow, my throat had gone so dry. "Sometimes.""How about now?" he asked.And then his strong arms were encircling my waist, his breath soft against my cheek as he gently whispered my name: "Susannah. Susannah....”

“If kisses were what you were looking for, little fool, why didn't you come to me?quoted by Susannah Simon”

“I may have been dead for the past hundred and fifty years, Susannah,...but that doesn't mean I don't know how people say good night. And generally, when people say good night, they keep their tongues to themselves.”

“And try to remember what we discussed, Susannah. A mediator is someone who helps others resolve conflicts. Not someone who, er, kicks them in the face.”

“Because my heat was too full of appreciation for what my friends-- my real friends-- had done for me.”

“Cursed?" I offered, my voice croaky because of my unshed tears."It isn't cursed." John said deliberately, rearranging the chain around my neck, "if you're wearing it. It's blessed.”