"Horrors," said Elphaba. It was her first word, and it was greeted with silence. Even the moon, the lambent bowl among the trees, seemed to pause. "Horrors?" Elphaba said again, looking around. Though her mouth was serious, her eyes glowed; she had realized her own accomplishment. She was nearly two years old. The big sharp teeth in her mouth could not keep her words locked inside anymore. "Horrors," she tried in a whisper. "Horrors."

"Everybody’s on your side until they need something from you."

"One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her—is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?"