I think that what I do is a form of pathetic fallacy, the literary trope in which nature is in sympathy with the mood of the story. I connect the physical setting and props in the story to the emotional state of the characters.

Von Loewe really should know me well enough by now to realize that I am not going to face my execution without a fight. Or with anything remotely resembling dignity.

If you show this devious little liar one atom's worth of compassion I will have you shot.

But people need lift, too. People don't get moving, they don't soar, they don't achieve great heights, without someone buoying them up.

But I have told the truth. Isn't that ironic? They sent me because I am so good at telling lies. But I have told the truth.

It's impossible to stall a Lizzie.

It was a rather extraordinary conversation if you think about it -- both of us speaking in code. But not military code, not Intelligence or Resistance code -- just feminine code.