Down Among the Sticks and Bones (Wayward Children, #2)

by Seanan McGuire

This, you see, is the true danger of children: they are ambushes, each and every one of them.

It can be easy, when standing on the lofty shores of adulthood, not to remember that every adult was once a child, with ideas and ambitions of their own.

It can be easy, in the end, to forget that children are people, and that people will do what people will do, the consequences be damned.

She had tried to make sure they knew that there were a hundred, a thousand, a million different ways to be a girl, and that all of them were valid, and that neither of them was doing anything wrong.

Some adventures require nothing more than a willing heart and the ability to trip over the cracks in the world.

The moon is the friendliest of the celestial bodies, after all,

lives. The moon worries. We may not know how we know that, but we know it all the same: that the moon watches, and the moon worries, and the moon will always love us, no matter what.

Every choice feeds every choice that comes after, whether we want those choices or no.)

Children have preferences. The danger comes when they, as with any human, are denied those preferences for too long.

Someone with sharp enough eyes might see the instant where one wounded heart begins to rot while the other starts to heal. Time marches on.