I wrote to remind myself that in the darkest hour the roses still bloom, the stars still come out at night (preface) - Alice Hoffman

This is how it began, out of water, out of clay, out of air, when it was not expected, when it should have never happened, when no one else understood who she was. (p113)

That was how evil spoke. It made its own corrupt sense; it swore that the good were evil, and that evil had come to save mankind. It brought up ancient fears and scattered them on the street like pearls. To fight what was wicked, magic and faith were needed. This was what one must turn to when there was no other option.

Every now and then a crow would soar past with a gold ring or coat button in its beak, a shiny souvenir of murder. (p298)