“Morgan's temper flared again, and she raised the staff again, intent on beating the answers out of him if she had to. "You used to be a chosen, too - I know you were. These were your friends, too, and now they're dying. Don't you care?”

“...if your friend knows you at all, she is being rude by pressuring you to do something that is bad for you. Yes, bad for you. Engaging in a painful activity that leaves you feeling crummy about yourself is self-destructive. But your friend is probably not a jerk—you wouldn’t have chosen her for a friend if she were. She’s just following the social rules. And you may be following them too.”

“I said, 'Do you know what shoulder blades are for?'She giggled.'Do you not even know that?' she said.'Do you?''It's a proven fact, common knowledge. They're where your wings were, and where they'll grow again.”

“She didn't want to look ahead to the days and the months and the years with him. Here, now, in this room, it was all right, but later? Again, time couldn't stop. And she saw at last that time only stopped when you were dead...Time was always moving and nothing could stay the same, everything was always changing, for better or for worse. And you had to change with time, with the seasons and the years, or you would be dead too, although your heart would continue to beat.”

“I love you too, Will Blakelee," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again.”

“Have me," they said, and there was no stopping them. They were frightened, no question, but they were not afraid of me. It was a fear of messing up and having to face themselves again, and facing the world, and the likes of you. There was nothing I could do.They had too many ways, they were too resourceful - and when they did it too well, whatever their chosen method, I was in no position to refuse.”