Page 4: "When I open my eyes, the woman's essence hovers in the cradle of my fingers. I focus on the joy in her memories as I coax forth her soul, guiding it toward the sapphire of my necklace. The stone absorbs her essence, growing warm against the hollow of my throat."

Page 139: "The paste in the bottom of the wooden cup mixes well with the water and I offer it to Kola, holding my breath when our fingers touch."

Page 159: "His skin shines in the sunlight, with a fresh wrapped slung around his waist, hanging in clean folds, he looks exactly like the leader of a village's son. "Simi," he says, coming close to me, smelling of black soap, shea butter, and the coconut oil that has made his clean curls tighter."

Page 274: "Kola staggers forward, his sword clattering on the ground as he collapses. "He's coming," Kola whispers as he holds a fist toward me. His fingers uncurl to reveal a hefty crystal hexagon. The key."

Page 124: "I paused, venturing a quick look at it. I glanced at the top of the page, where the title sat beside the page number in the header. Jane Eyre. I'd never read that one, but from what I heard it was a romance."

Page 156: "I went the opposite way, to the room where it happened. It looked off. I tried to think back to how it looked last night, and every day before. Yes. The large tapestry had fallen off the wall and was lying in the middle of the floor."

Page 311: "The hyena rammed us and Jember winced as he handed me the needle. He didn't have much shield left. "Finish it. I don't need energy to shield you.""

Page 64: "As soon as her feet hit the muddy yard, Inge runs, unsnapping the tight barrette, flying down the firmer edges of the road."

Page 126: "And then Inge notices papers, scattered all over the passenger-side floor. The file. With her name on it. She gathers them up, shaking off bits of broken windshield. They're wrinkled, out of order. Journaled notes written in her father's slanted hand. Inge finds the first page, marked with the date November 1933, and a name. Observations: Anna Ptaszynska."

Page 316: "Jake doesn't say anything. Just pushes open the damper, sits down beside her, and hands her a box of matches. Eva strikes the match. Smells of sulfur. And it isn't hard at all to put the flame to the first corner of the paper. They sit, side by side, and watch Anna's life burn."

Page 403: "She breaks the seal, and it’s not a letter or a document about the Doctor, like she’d thought. It’s a photograph. A portrait of a family. Eva stares. She stares and stares at the photograph until her eyes are dry and her lungs burn. Four people. A man. A woman, and two little girls."

Page 17: "At once, Koffi pulled three dry, silver-veined leaves from a drawstring pouch at her hip. They were exquisite, shimmering with white resin that left her fingertips sticky when she pinched them."

Page 76: "Koffi reached, aware that if she extended much more, she'd fall forward; as it was, her body was already teetering. Mama looked up, and reached for Koffi's hand, oblivious to the small black stone hurtling her way."

Page 271: "He followed its gaze to the thing that had given it pause. A single shaft of golden sunshine was piercing the jungle's canopy, shining light directly on the jeweled hilt of Koffi's jino blade."

Page 431: "It was a strange recall. This was the hallway where they'd first met, albeit under very different circumstances. "Did they hurt you, before I came?" "No." "Good." Ekon unshouldered his bag and pulled a blue cloak from it."

Page 99: "Ellis laughs and steals a wide-brimmed hat from a nearby mannequin, perching it atop her head. It makes her look like a character from an Agatha Christie novel; she has become a hardboiled detective in herringbone with a nose for blood."

Page 136: "A portrait of Margery Lemont has been preserved here in the bowels of the Dalloway library; it hands on the easy wall next to the painting of her mother, the founder. When I look up from my book, Margery is watching me with a cool and impenetrable gaze. The artist painted her in luscious pale silks, her black hair tumbling loose over her shoulders, in defiance of the style of the time."

Page 298: "The old book is nestled there on my shelf, the cloth binding slowly peeling back from the spine and the lettering of the title faded to grey. It's not possible. I tug the book free with shaking hands. A black dust tumbles from between the pages. Grave dirt. And there on the title page, in Alex's handwriting, an inscription."

Page 4: "Instead of answering, I stare at her apron. It reads Kiss the Cook and has a drawing of two enormous red lips smacking."

Page 200: "As soon as I sit, my phone buzzes with a message from X. Just seeing his name on my screen makes me feel less panicky. X: Doing ok? he asks. I take a selfie holding one of the fancy teacups. I text it to him with the caption #teaforone."

Page 255: "I measure out the sugar and pour it into a bowl. "How many times have I tried to get you to talk to me about Dad?" "This again?" she says, and restarts her whisking."

Page 3: "Though many Spartans, men and women alike, duel naked, I wear a poppy-colored chiton, wrapped tight across my chest and cut so short it dances high on my thighs. From my left wrist a single bronze bangle pinches my skin and sines in the firelight. Diodorus, my adoptive family name, is etched on the bangle, the only token of my status that I'll allow on my body."

Page 33: "She envelopes me in a warm hug and pulls away to press something small and cold into my hand. A necklace, delicate and beautiful in its simplicity. Suspended from a thin silver chain is a small crow, wings unfurled, and made of white gold."

Page 275: "A shower of golden feathers flutters down around me. I catch one and the feather dwarfs my entire hand."

Page 363: "I tell myself to make Apollo promise to teach these women how to protect themselves. Kleio places in my cradling hands their expression of gratitude: an apple, gold and unblemished."

Page 4: "Sometimes, our acts were the only thing putting food on the table. The severe officer watches me as I pull my ticket from my velvet handbag."

Page 87: "In the wardrobe, I find a canvas bag stitched with the White Star logo containing a pair of black velvet slippers and a pair of white ones. Never in my life have I had so much footwear at my disposal."

Page 310: "I lift my face to Bo's, and he kisses me with a fierceness that speaks of survival and wishes for a future. A sliver of a smile appears on his face and sears itself into my heart. Taking the wooden whale from my pocket, I press it to his fingers."

Page 18: "There was the sound of his breathing; sharp as he inhaled through his nose and then soft as he sighed. I took in the scent of his shampoo, something woodsy. Pine and lime."

Page 67: "I grabbed the first thing I saw on one of the shelves, only realizing it was a pair of scissors as I raised them over my head. Everything went dark as I plunged the flashing blades toward her."

Page 178: "Freddie laughed and half-heartedly tossed some bits of popcorn on me, too. Then I learned why Felicity was so happy. She took her full bowl in both hands, walked right up to me, and dumped it over my head. "It's tradition," she announced, with a self-satisfied grin."

Page 239: "He crawled toward a clunky machine on the windowsill behind his headboard, his bed squeaking from the movement. Freddie flipped a switch, sending lights dancing on my arm. "Is that a film projector?" I whispered."

Page 401: "All I had on me were my keys, my phone, and a MetroCard. I took out my keys, attached to my favorite key chain. It was a red key fob for Room 237 at the Overlook Hotel."

Page 56: "I clutched by backpack to my chest. And there it was - tick tick tick. The only egg timer in this kitchen was the one I had brought from school."

Page 83: "She looked so beautiful in the light from under the door, her hair pulled back and a soft black sweater on. Little blue earrings I hadn't seen her wear in years were dangling from her earlobes, and I think she was even wearing lip gloss."

Page 338: "I took one of the coins Kieren had handed me out of my pocket, walked up to the door to Yesterday, and slide it into the opening that I had thought was a peephole."

Page 350: "Inside was a small glass jar, like a beaker, narrow at the top and plugged with a cork, wedged into some Styrofoam padding that had been cut specifically to fit it. A pink solution sloshed around inside. It had a glow about it, an iridescence. I picked it up and stared at it, and I could see the liquid splash against the glass enclosure as my nervous hands shook."

Page 119: "Saturday afternoon, when I get back from an informal tap lesson Marsha led in the parlor downstairs, there's an envelope waiting for me on my pillow. My eyes focus on the tidy letters written in ruler straight lines while the rest of me flares like a dying star, popping and crackling as it devours itself from the inside out."

Page 158: "So I smile, blinking a little too fast. "Thanks," I manage. I toss Nana's scarf over my shoulder and push through the studio door like it didn't just kill me to do that much."

Page 225: "She offers a weak smile. "We help each other. It's what we do." Fiona takes Gloria's arm and steers her past me with a pointed glare. Kathleen's waiting for me backstage, a pincushion strapped to her wrist."

Page 319: "I grip the sides of my chair so hard the metal edges dig into the pads of my fingers. "It's a revue, and they need to fill a few more spots in the singing ensemble. There's no square dancing, so I know you'll be bitterly disappointed." I chuck my hairbrush at her, and she ducks, snorting with laughter."

Page 46: "He laughs and reaches into the backseat to produce a muffin tin, as if he's just pulled it out of the oven, the delicious smell getting even stronger. The muffins are studded with plump raspberries and covered with a crumble that seems to sparkle."

Page 287: "My phone goes off again in my pocket, but I fight the urge to pull it out. Instead I force myself to look at the different products on the shelves. There's dried lavender in tall plastic baggies. Something especially fragrant called ras el hanout in glass jars. Next to that are tubs of something that looks like a mix of a beautiful flower and a terrifying bug the color of midnight."

Page 346: "Still, I almost cried seeing the full scale of his creations. Giant color versions of all the sketches I'd seen him laboring over this year. A girl in a dress of flowers, long locs made out of blooms, and the star of the gallery: Lavon in a simple white tank top, a crow of peonies on his head, each of his features so perfectly realized that I had to fight back the urge to reach out and touch the piece."