We are lucky, even the worst of us, for daylight comes.
I don't read reviews because by then it's too late - whatever anyone says, the book won't change. It is written.
Words are the part of silence that can be spoken.
You're never alone with a book, are you? It's a dialogue.
And you? Now that I have discovered you? Beautiful, dangerous, unleashed. Still I try to hold you, knowing that your body is faced with knives.
Odd to think that the piece of you I know best is already dead. The cells on the surface of your skin are thin and flat without the blood vessels or nerve endings. Dead cells, thickest on the palms of your hands and the soles of your feet.