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“You don’t realise until you have no memories at all that you are a product of them. When you are an empty sheet of paper, you can’t even relate to yourself let alone to anyone else. You have no north and south. No right or left. You don’t know how to think and you don’t know what you think. Now that I have remembered things – I think – I wonder if I was better off not knowing.”

“You don't really actually have a choice, it's like you can't get work, so you go into education to then be whacked with a load of debt you can't pay and nobody will even give you a job while you're at college or uni because, errrr... MAYBE you're AT COLLEGE and when you're not there, you're studying or, let's face it, you're getting drunk. It's a trap. Then ONCE you get your qualifications all the jobs are taken or have been cut and then you're just there, trying to get the same job you applied for all those years back, when you were sixteen, just this time you're way too overqualified and broke. Unless you're parents are loaded or you come up with some amazing idea and become a millionaire, or win the lottery... you're screwed. A millionaire isn't even a millionaire any more. You know how long a million pounds lasts in London these days? Zilcho nilcho.”

“You don’t really have idea about any of that olden-days stuff, do you?” He’s sure he can feel her smiling against his shoulder. “Busted,” she says. “Ah, it’s some nice talk, though, Sol. You make it all sound real nice.” “That’s the beauty of it. Just dreaming thoughts on once-was things. Animals and helping people and one place you could always call home.” “The Horizon is my home,” he says, and it strikes him for the first time how much that is true. A sudden keen longing for its shapes and spaces goes through him, and he hugs Sol to him tighter. “You are my home,” she says, real sudden. So sudden he’s sure she’s about to take it back any second—or at least wants to. But no taking back comes. He clings to the words so tightly he doesn’t think she could take them back even if she tried. Oh Sol, he thinks. God, please don’t let us die now. Not now. Not now that he realizes The Horizon isn’t his home at all. That he thinks like her. That she is his home, too.”

“You don't really love me, or you never would have treated me like you did. You were just afraid of letting me go. There’s a difference, and no one knows that better than I do. We were both afraid of moving on, me of what I really wanted. It brought us together, it bound us, but no longer. I am done with making decisions based on fear. [Nicholas to Grace]”

“You don't really mean that we got to be frightened all the time of nothing? Life' said Piggy expansively, 'Is scientific, that's what it is. In a year or two when the war's over they'll be travelling to Mars and back. I know there isn't no beast, not with claws and all that, I mean, but I know there isn't no fear either.' Piggy paused. 'Unless' Ralph moved restlessly. 'Unless what?' 'Unless we get frightened of people.”

“You don't regret it?" She shakes her head, her smile sad, "No." "Good," I murmur. "Because I've always had a thing for short hair." "Oh, really?" She laughs as I sway us in a circle. "It's true. Among other things, of course." I shrug a shoulder. "Short hair. Ocean-blue eyes. Twenty-eight freckles. And"- I pause, examining her with a tilt of my head-"how tall are you?" She blinks in confusion. "Umm, about five and a half feet?" "Five and a half feet," I continue evenly. "The terrifying ability to kick a man's ass. Stunning smile. Ridiculously stubborn. Hair like molten silver. Quick to threaten me with a dagger." I smile down at her. "Should I go on?”