And then Mum spoons the coffee a little as if she’s having fantasies of flinging it in Britt-Marie’s face. But in a controlled way.

We have to do it for my mum's sake. Because I'm hoping that the last sorry will be to her.

It's strange how quickly the significance of of a certain smell can change, depending on what path it decides to take through the brain. It's strange how close love and fear live to each other.

Or that time she made a snowman in Britt-Marie and Kent’s garden right under their balcony and dressed it up in grown-up clothes so it looked as if a person had fallen from the roof.

Don't people get married because they're full of love and then divorced when they run out of it?" (Elsa)"Did you learn that one in school?" (Mom)"It's my own theory." (Elsa)

Mum is a perfectionist and Dad is a pedant and that was partly why their marriage didn't work so well, Elsa figures. Because a perfectionist and a pedant are two very different things.

There's something quite special about a granny's house. Even if ten or twenty or thirty years go by, you never forget how it smells.

Until there are so many of them that no one dares to chase them anymore. Until they're an army in themselves. Because if a sufficient number of people are different, no one has to be normal.

When it comes to terror, reality’s got nothing on the power of the imagination[.]

You should choose your battles if you can, but if the battle chooses you then kick the sod in his fuse box!

It's going to be a grand adventure and a fairy tale of marvels. But it's my fault that you'll find a dragon at the end, my darling knight.

I'm not the smartest fellow in the world, but I can sure pick smart colleagues.

The Christian does not think God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because He loves us.

Let yourself be enchanted in small ways.

I didn't know that there were any radio stations in Nova Scotia.

I'm Larry Sanders. I'm a person. I'm a father. I'm an artist. I'm a writer. I'm a painter. I'm a musician. And sometimes I play basketball.

I have reached a place in my life where I need to sit down and say, 'Well, what do I do? What's best for me?' I need to look into options for the future.

No one really listens to anyone else, and if you try it for a while you'll see why.

This self-obsession is a waste of living. It could be spent on surviving things, appreciating nature, nurturing kindness and friendship, and dancing.

The only cure for loss of illusions is fresh illusions, more illusions, and always illusions.