It is early, early morning. It's that time when it's still dark but you know the day is coming. Blue is bleeding through black. Stars are dying.

He watched them grow, until eventually, great forests of words had risen throughout Germany.... It was a nation of farmed thoughts.

You can kill a man with those words. No gun. No bullets. Just words and a girl.

If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.

Grimly, she realized that clocks don't make a sound that even remotely resembles ticking, tocking. It was more the sound of a hammer, upside down, hacking methodically at the earth. It was the sound of a grave.

But then, is there cowardice in the acknowledgment of fear? Is there cowardice in being glad that you lived?

I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skills is their capacity to escalate.