“Who can teach a heart what the heart desires?”

“We kept a jarful of keyson a forgotten shelfin the house.What doors they opened,or what they kept forever locked,before they came by accidentor chance into our little jar,we never learned.”

“She flutters a hand and historybreathes—innocence returns,sin ripens on the tree of knowledge,death comes to be.”

“She battened on a truthshe knew I too must own:when what’s at stakeis loyalty or love,hers are the true rights.”

“Sour wine laughter song a bagful of wishesmy satchel of skin my brittle bones— Chasing the rain The sun at my heels”

“wind stinging our facesoverhead the birdsshrieking turn backturn back turn backbehind us, look,bright fields, the seaglinting gold!we've come this farchasing the rain,the sun at our heels.”

“Shows what you know, sunny-girl! I’m sure you’ve heard people talk about their Heart’s Desire—well that’s a load of rot. Hearts are idiots. They’re big and squishy and full of daft dreams. They flounce off to write poetry and moon at folk who aren’t worth the mooning. Bones are the ones that have to make the journey, fight the monster, kneel before whomever is big on kneeling these days. Bones do the work for the heart’s grand plans. Bones know what you need. Hearts only know want. I much prefer to deal with children, boggans, and villains, who haven’t got hearts to get in the way of the very important magic of Getting-Things-Done.”