“Newrose, Oldrose, Quean Anne's lace. Water, river, stone and sun Wind over hill, under tree. Past the border none can see. Climbing into dark for you, Will you climb in stars for me? P.124” — Ally Condie Copy Share Image
“My attempts at brushing him off were three counties past the border of outright rude, but nothing fazed him.” — A&E Kirk Copy Share Image
