Clearly, I see it. I was just about to leave when I found her kneeling there. A mountain range of rubble was written, designed, erected around her. She was clucthing at a book.

No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.

Liesel observed the strangeness of her foster father's eyes. They were made of kindness, and silver.

I look at her wish we could go inside and make love on the couch. Dive inside each other. Take each other. Make each other. Nothing happens, though.

In years to come, he would be a giver of bread, not a stealer - proof again of the contradictory human being. So much good, so much evil. Just add water.

If a guy like you can stand up and do what you did, then maybe everyone can. Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.

The days and nights come apart. I feel them corroding at the seams.