Perhaps, she thought, that’s what love does. It’s not there to make you feel special. It’s to make you brave. It was like a ration pack in the desert, she thought, like a box of matches in a dark wood. Love and courage, thought Sophie—two words for the same thing.

Lena, listen to me, okay? We don't have much more time here. You are in love. I've never seen anything like this before. You have to be brave, okay? You have to go and tell Kostos how you feel. I swear to God if you don't, you will regret it for the rest of your cowardly life.'

'What if he doesn't like me back?'

'That's what I mean about being brave.

When Sophie had first learned to read, Charles had kept the whisky in a bottle labeled CAT'S URINE, so that Sophie would not touch it, but she had uncorked the bottle and sipped it, and then sniffed at the underside of the cat next door. They were not at all similar, though equally unpleasant.

But it's a child! You're a man!"

"Your powers of observation are formidable," said Charles. "You are a credit to your optician.

It's dancing! It's magical, actually. A kind of slowish magic. Like writing with your feet.

Only weak thinkers do not love the sky.