<blockquote>When Rosaline is a little girl, she likes flowers and pretty things. She likes old books, with cracked leather binding, with pages filled with fairy tales or intrigues or household accounts. She likes the curve of her cousin’s smile. She likes the sound of her laugh. She likes the sound of her name. She sounds it out. Juliet. Juli-et. It rhymes with well-met, regret.
It rhymes with poetry that has not been written yet.</blockquote>
