He was waving. "Saukerl," she laughed, and as she held up her hand, she knew completely that he was simultaneously calling her a Saumensch. I think that's as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get.

She rubbed her eyes, and after a long study of his face, she spoke "Is it really you?" Is it from your cheek, she thought, that I took the seed? The man nodded. His heart wobbled and he held tighter to the branches. It is.

And I stop listening to me, because to put it bluntly, I tire me.

When she came to write her story, she would wonder when the books and the words started to mean not just something, but everything.

Yes, I know it. In the darkness of my dark beating heart, I know. He'd have loved it alright. You see? Even Death Has A Heart.

Beautiful women are the torment of my existence.

Stealing it, in a sick kind of sense, was like earning it.