She groped forward, hands and feet, in search of darkness, distance and solitude.
But everyone has some kind of power to hurt people.
Why does everybody throw every troublesome thing into the river?
You're in fine temper," Raffin said. "Your hair is blue," she snapped back.
He leaned heavily on the desk now, as if danger had strengthened him before and its lack now made him weak.
When you're a monster, you are thanked and praised for not being a monster.