“I don’t want to die, said February. This is what is going to happen, said the girl who smelled of honey and smoke. She walked over to February and whispered something in his ear.I hope that works, said February. I really do.I’d do it for you. I’d change our entire story if I could, she said. Our story, said February, is all wrong.”

“When's your birthday?"I was taken aback by the question. "I don't like presents,"I said quickly, in case he got any ideas. "Who said anything about presents? I'm just asking for your date of birth.""Thirtieth of February," I said, throwing out the first date that came to mind.Xavier raised an eyebrow."Are you sure about that?"I panicked. What had I said wrong? I ran through the months in my head and realised my mistake. OOPS--there were only twenty-eight days in February! "I mean thirtieth of April," I corrected and grinned sheepishly.Xavier laughed. "You're the first person I've ever known to forget her own birthday.”

“The only bubble in the flat champagne of February is Valentine’s Day. It was no accident that our ancestors pinned Valentine’s Day on February’s shirt: he or she lucky enough to have a lover in frigid, antsy February has cause for celebration, indeed.”

“I will confess to you that, you know, one of the statements that’s been attributed to me that I’m sort of proud of is somebody said, you know, “What do we do about Osama bin Laden?” And they asked me, “Can we forgive him?” And I said, “Forgiveness is up to God. I just hope we hurry up the meeting.” And that’s the way I feel about him, really. [8 February 2003 show of Meet The Press, NBC News]”

“February is pitiless, and it is boring. That parade of red numerals on its page adds up to zero: birthdays of politicians, a holiday reserved for rodents, what kind of celebrations are those? The only bubble in the flat champagne of February is Valentine’s Day. It was no accident that our ancestors pinned Valentine’s Day on February’s shirt: he or she lucky enough to have a lover in frigid, antsy February has cause for celebration, indeed.”

“February dawn -- frost on the pathWhere I paced all winter.”