I enjoyed When a Monster Calls, so I decided to try this one.

"What was true, though, and what he thought about often, was that although he was the hero of his version of the story, naturally, he was also a supporting player in this same story when it was told by someone else."

"There were as many truths -- overlapping, stewed together -- as there were tellers. The truth mattered less than the story's life. A story forgotten died. A story remembered not only lived, but grew."

"It just felt like she'd been born with a small flaw, right at the centre of herself, a flaw somehow too shameful to be shown to anyone else, so she'd spent her life building a carapace around it to keep it hidden. Inevitably, the carapace became her true self, a fact she could never quite see, a fact that might have offered relief. Because all she knew was the truth deep inside of her, the little something wrong no one else could ever, ever know. And if that wasn't the real her, then what was? At her core, she was broken, and life was just one long attempt to distract people from noticing."

"You fight your hatred for yourself, anyone can see, and you do your best, taking it out on people who you think will be strong enough to handle it. I understand this. I am the same. It is hard but it is bearable if your love for me is bigger than your hate. But it has tipped somewhere along the way, and there is no recovery from that, I do not think."

"'The point of a volcano is anger, ' he says. 'A calm volcano is merely a mountain, it is not? To calm a volcano is to kill it.'
Lava and heat and destruction flow from him in waves, the denizens of this young earth fleeing before his burning laughter. She flies away in distaste, before circling around again to confirm her distaste. Then circling around again.
'The purpose of a volcano is to die, my lady,' says the volcano, 'but as angrily as possible.'
'You do not seem angry, ' she says. 'You smile. You jest. You speak from desire, from flirtation. I have seen it the world over.'
'I speak from joy, my lady. Angry joy.'
'Is such a thing possible?'
It is that which creates us all. It is that which fires the magma of the world. It is that which drives the volcano to sing.'"

"'A story never ends at the end. There is always after. And even within itself,  even by saying that this version is the right one, it suggests other versions, versions that exist in parallel. No, a story is not an explanation, it is a net, a net through which the truth flows. The net catches some of the truth, but not all, never all, only enough so that we can live with the extraordinary without it killing us.'"

"'George is nice, but he's nice all the way through. I need someone who'll push back or I'll just turn into a bully, and who wants that?'"

"Pregnancy didn't just happen in your womb; your whole body re-arranged itself, like country-house staff preparing for a visit from royalty."

"'We are all the lady, George. And  I am your crane and you are mine.' She sighed. 'And we are all the volcano. Stories shift, remember? They change depending on who is doing the telling.'"