I know not to trust anyone," i say. "Except..." Holly studies my face. "You do fancy him, don't you? What a strange, wonderful, repressed place this is.

How long?" His smile was amazingly sweet. "The longest." For ever?" Sam's lips smiled, but above his grin, his yellow eyes turned sad, as if he knew it was a lie. "Longer.

He danced on the knife’s edge between awareness and sleep. When he dreamt like this, he was a king. The world was his to bend. His to burn.

He cared for languages dead long enough that they wouldn’t change on him.

We are shoulder to shoulder due to the size of the cab, and if Gratton is made of flour and potatoes, Sean is made of stone and driftwood and possibly those prickly anemones that sometimes wash up on shore.

It's rude to stare, but the great thing about staring at a sedated person is that they don't know you're doing it.

Sleep deprivation made his life an imaginary thing, his days a ribbon floating aimlessly in water." - Whelk