She almost never said his name. Because it made the dreams too real. Because it made the loneliness too tangible when she woke up.

— Dianna Hardy

She had forced herself to learn to read – picked up bits and pieces, here and there, from the very few teachers who had been patient with her; from looking at words while out and about; from television, and from friends. And to avoid the shouting and drug-induced moaning, and the row of male visitors her mum would entertain, she would barricade herself in her room – there'd been no lock – and lose herself in books.

— Dianna Hardy

She looked at him for an age, and he read nothing short of love on her face. It warmed him to the core he'd thought dead, and scared the crap out of him.

— Dianna Hardy

She smiled into his mouth. “That was … wow.”“It's always wow. You're wow. I'll never get enough of you, Lydia. Not after ten years in dreams; not after forever in real life.

— Dianna Hardy

She waited for him with shallow breaths, head thrown back, eyes half closed, completely exposed in her trust of him, and it unraveled the last thread holding him together.

— Dianna Hardy

Some wounds were worth bearing for the healing they brought.

— Dianna Hardy

The hugest changes were the ones that could not be seen – that’s where the real apocalypse lay: in people’s hearts, their souls, their beings.

— Dianna Hardy

Then, things get hard, because once you know magic exists, you have to decide whether to be the bystander, or the magician … and we were all born to be magicians.

— Dianna Hardy

The one thing you should never do to a woman, whether you make love to her or fuck her, is apologize straight after.

— Dianna Hardy

The question is never 'who am I?' It's 'who do I want to be?

— Dianna Hardy