"No, I can't," she admits, searching his face with her gaze. "I don't know that person, and I don't know that I'd want to. I'm glad I don't."

"I want you to be like you, Autor, not like him. My friend, who's clever and sweet and kind, who mocks bad movies and is amazingly awesome at alliteration, who knows when tea is needed, who helps his friends when they're hurting, who finds ancient recipes for legendary burn ointments, and loves stories and finding out new things. And who shushes people in the library when they need shushing, even if the books in question deserved to be laughed at."

"But I worry that he'll continue to try and capitalize on your curiosity, and influence you to believe that you are like him, in the way he influenced you to believe you were paranoid, and tried to influence me to believe the same. You mustn't... seek him out."