- Her father was still here, thought Emilia, in the thousands of pages. Millions--there must be so many millions--of words. All those words, and the pleasure they had provided for people over the years: escape, entertainment, education...He had changed minds. He had changed lives. It was up to her to carry on his work, so he could live on, she swore to herself.
- Books, after all, were her escape from the horror she had been through. At night she could curl up with Ruth Rendell or Nancy Mitford, and the stress melted away, and for a couple of hours she could be somewhere else. Reading gave her comfort.
- She knew, from all the books she had ever read, that life was complicated, that love sprang from nowhere sometimes, and that forbidden love wasn't always something to be ashamed of.