"Such musings, I realize, are more than a trifle insane, for envisioning what might have been has no more connection to our own true reality than a lunatic has to a lemon" (Chapter 1).

"As I had climbed the stone staircase more than half convinced I was en route to my execution, my initial reaction involved a fair measure of relief, for a sliver of pie is better than naught" (Chapter 5).

"Lacy Beatrix apparently believed me slovenly enough to manufacture my own dirt. The fact that I potentially could manufacture dirt was beside my point" (Chapter 7).

"My first attempt left me screaming in fright, for the figure I had created lacked arms and legs, and most resembled a dismembered corpse. Lucky I am that my room lay out of earshot of the queen, else this narrative would end now" (Chapter 8).

"With every morsel I consumed, I was informed that...