When death captures me," the boy vowed, "he will feel my fist in his face." (31.26)

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.

I guess when someone tells you something they they usually guard, you feel privileged, not because you know something no-one else knows, but because you feel chosen. You feel like that person wants her life to intersect with yours. I think that's what felt best about it.

Personally, I like a chocolate-colored sky, dark, dark chocolate.

I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.

Warily, she dares to allow me a smile. "It's okay. It's just...I'm not too good at talking to people." She looks away again as her shyness smothers her. "So, do you think it'd be all right if we don't talk?

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