THE NIGHT CIRCUS - ERIN MORGENSTERN

The Night Circus - Pg 508

   There are so many paces to begin.
   So many elements to consider.
   He wonders if the poem of the circus could possibly be bottled.
   Widget takes a sip of his wine and puts his glass down on the table. He sits back in his chair and steadily returns the stare aimed at him. Taking his time as though he has all of it in the world, in the universe, from the days when tales meant more than they do now, but perhaps less than they will someday, he draws a breath that releases the tangled knot of words in his heart, and they fall from his lips effortlessly.
   "The circus arrives without warning."

The Night Circus - Pg 505

   "Someone needs to tell those tales. When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative. There's magic in that. It's in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift. Your sister may be able to see the future, but you yourself can shape it, boy. Do not forget that." He takes another sip of his wine. "There are many kinds of magic, after all."

The Night Circus - Pg 480

   It is only then that Bailey realizes the scope of the commitment he is being asked for.
   It is not the handful of years committed to Harvard. It is, he thinks, an even greater commitment than inheriting responsibility for the family farm.
   He looks from Marco to Celia, and knows from the look in her eyes that she will let him go if he asks to leave, no matter what that might mean for them or for the circus.
   He thinks of a litany of questions but none of them truly matter.
   He knows his answer already.
   His choice was made when he was ten years old, under a different tree, bound up in acorns and dares and a single white glove.
   He will always choose the circus.

The Night Circus - Pg 468

   Celia holds her hands to her lips, not quite believing her eyes. The sight of Marco standing in the Ice Garden is one she has imagines so many times before while alone in the icy expanse of flowers, it does not seem real despite the darkness of his suit against a bower of pale roses.
   Then he turns and looks at her. As soon as she sees his eyes all her doubts vanish.
   For a moment, he looks so young that she can see the boy he was, years before she met him, when they were already connected but still so far apart.
   There are so many things she wants to say, things she feared she would never have the opportunity to tell him again. Only one seems truly important.
   "I love you," she says.
   The words echo throughout the tent, softly rustling the frozen leaves.

The Night Circus - Pg 462

   Tsukiko flicks her still-glowing cigarette toward the fire.
   It is still in the air when Marco cries out for Celia to stop.
   It has barely touched the flickering white flames of the bonfire when she leaps into his arms.
   Marco knows he does not have the time to push her away, so he pulls her close, burying his face in her hair, his bowler hat torn from his head by the wind.
   And then the pain starts. Sharp, ripping pain as though he is being pulled apart.
   "Trust me," Celia whispers in his ear, and he stops fighting it, forgetting everything but her.
   In the moment before the explosion, before the white light becomes too blinding to discern precisely what is happening, they dissolve into the air.

The Night Circus - Pg 392

   Trapped in silence, Marco traces apologies and adorations across Celia's body with his tongue. Mutely expressing all the things he cannot speak aloud.
   He finds other ways to tell her, his fingers leaving faint trails of ink in their wake. He savors every sound he elicits from her.
   The entire room trembles as they come together.
   And though there are a great many fragile objects contained within it, nothing breaks.
   Above them, the clock continues to turn its pages, pushing stories too minuscule to read ever onward.

The Night Circus - Pg 359

   And before he can tell her to tell Widget goodbye for him if need be, she leans forward and kisses him, not on the cheek, as she has a handful of times before, but on the lips, and Bailey knows in that moment that he will follow her anywhere.

The Night Circus - Pg 349

   "Call me by my name," he says. He had never heard her speak his name and holding her in his arms he suddenly craves the sound. "Please," he adds when she hesitates.
   "Marco," she says, her voice low and soft. The sound of his name on her tongue is even more intoxicating than he had imagined, and he leans in to taste it.

The Night Circus - Pg 322

   It is not always a pleasant position to be in, but it is the way of such things, and Chandresh knows this process well. One is proud, one collects one's receipts, and even if one is a bit melancholy, one moves on.
   The circus left him behind, sailing forth, and yet he cannot turn away from the shore. More than enough time to mourn the creative process and ignite it again, but there are no sparks of something new. No new endeavors, nothing bigger or better for nearly fourteen years.
   Perhaps, he thinks, he has outdone even himself. But it is not a pleasant thought, so he drowns it in brandy and attempts to ignore it.

The Night Circus - Pg 309

   He goes directly to the ballroom, making his way to the center of the dance floor. He takes Celia's arm, spinning her away from Herr Thiessen.
   Marco pulls her to him in an emerald embrace, so close that no distinction remains between where his suit ends and her gown begins.
   To Celia, there is suddenly no else in the room as he holds her in his arms.
   But before she can vocalize her surprise, his lips close over hers and she is lost in wordless bliss.
   Marco kisses her as though they are the only two people in the world.
   The air swirls in a tempest around them, blowing open the glass doors to the garden with a tangle of billowing curtains.
   Every eye in the crowded ballroom turns in their direction.
   And then he releases her and walks away.
   By the time Marco leaves the room, almost everyone has forgotten the incident entirely. It is replaced by a momentary confusion that is blamed on the heat or the excessive amounts of champagne.
   Herr Thiessen cannot recall why Celia has suddenly stopped dancing, or when her gown shifted to its current deep green.
   "Is something wrong?" he asks, when he realizes that she is trembling.

The Night Circus - Pg 297

   They stand entwined but not touching, their heads tilted toward each other. Lips frozen in the moment before (or after) the kiss.
   Though you watch them for some time they do not move. No stirring of fingertips or eyelashes. No indication that they are even breathing.
   "They cannot be real," someone nearby remarks.
   Many patrons only glance at them before moving on, but the longer you watch, the more you can detect the subtlest of motions. The change in the curve of a hand as it hovers near an arm. The shifting angle of a perfectly balanced leg. Each of them always gravitating toward the other.
   Yet still they do not touch.

The Night Circus - Pg 292

   Without the concern for the effect she might be having on the surroundings, she is able to relax into the sensation instead of resisting it. It is exquisite. It is the way she has felt in so many of his tents, the thrill of being surrounded by something wondrous and fantastical, only magnified and focused directly on her. The feel of his skin against hers reverberates across her entire body, though his fingers remain entwined in hers. She looks up at him, caught in the haunting greenish-grey of his eyes again, and she does not turn away.
   They stand gazing at each other in silence for moments that seem to stretch for hours.

The Night Circus - Pg 289

   The silence that falls between them is a comfortable one. He longs to reach over and touch her, but he resists, fearful of destroying the delicate camaraderie they are building. He steals glances instead, watching the way the light falls over her skin. Several times he catches her regarding him in a similar manner, and the moments when she holds his eyes with hers are sublime.

The Night Circus - Pg 277

   "I've seen you like this before," she says, placing his true countenance in a location in her memory. "You've watched my show like that."
   "Do you remember all of your audiences?" Marco asks.
   "Not all of them," Celia says. "But I remember the people who look at me the way you do."
   "What way might that be?"
   "As though they cannot decide if they are afraid of me or they want to kiss me."
   "I am not afraid of you."