Emma: Have you been reading Henry's book?
Jefferson: Henry? You mean the Queen's father?
Emma: Henry, the mayor's adopted kid.
Jefferson: Oh, Henry. Your Henry. And his book of stories, the ones that you choose to ignore. Maybe if you knew what I know, you wouldn't.

Jefferson: I know what you refuse to acknowledge, Emma. You're special. You brought something precious to Storybrooke--magic.

Jefferson: Stories. Stories? What's a story? When you were in high school, did you learn about the Civil War?
Emma: Yeah, of course.
Jefferson: How? Did you read about it, perchance, in a book? How is that any less real than any other book?
Emma: History books are based on history.
Jefferson: And storybooks are based on what, imagination? Where's that come from? It has to come from somewhere. You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants a magical solution for their problem, and everyone refuses to believe in magic.

Emma: Here's the thing, Jefferson, this is it. This is the real world.
Jefferson: A real world. How arrogant are you to think yours is the only one? There are infinite more. You have to open your mind. They touch one another, pressing up in a long line of lands, each just as real as the last. Each have their own rules. Some have magic, some don't. And some need magic.

Jefferson: Stay away from the walls.
Queen Regina: I've got a better idea. The walls should stay away from me.

Jefferson: That's my curse.
Emma: To remember.
Jefferson: What good is this house, these things, if I can't share them with her?
Emma: If you really think she's your daughter, why don't you reach out to her, why don't you tell her?
Jefferson: And destroy her reality? I'm trapped by knowledge. How cruel do you think I am. You think I'd inflict that awareness on my daughter? It's hard enough to live in a land where you don't belong. But knowing it, holding conflicting realities in your head... will drive you mad.

Emma: So maybe you're right. Maybe I need to open myself up more. Maybe if I want magic, I have to start believing.