Every time you find something that doesn't work, you're a step closer to what does work.

She tore a page from the book and ripped it in half. Then a chapter. Soon, there was nothing but scraps of words littered between her legs and all around her. The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this. Without words, the Führer was nothing. There would be no limping prisoners, no need for consolation or wordly tricks to make us feel better. What good were the words? She said it audibly now, to the orange-lit room. "What good are the words?

Competence was attractive.

So many humans. So many colors.

I'm not the messenger at all. I'm the message.

It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.

Trust was accumulated quickly, due primarily to the brute strength of the man's gentleness, his thereness. (p.36)