When he moves, a streetlight stabs him, and the words flow out like blood.

...to swear with a ferocity that can only be described as a talent.

Five hundred souls. I carried them in my fingers, like suitcases. Or I'd throw them over my shoulder. It was only the the children I carried in my arms.

Often I wish this would all be over, Liesel, but then somehow you do something like walk down the basement steps with a snowman in your hands.

It would then be brought abruptly to an end, for the brightness had shown suffering the way.

Have faith, Ed, all right?' I search the coffee mug, but there's none in there.

Maybe one morning I’ll wake up and step outside of myself to look back at the old me lying dead among the sheets.