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

How'd it feel?" Rube asked himself. "I don't know exactly, but it made me want to howl.

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

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.

Why can’t the world hear? I ask myself. Within a few moments I ask it many times. Because it doesn’t care, I finally answer, and I know I’m right. It’s like I’ve been chosen. But chosen for what? I ask.

Mistakes, mistakes, it's all I seem capable of at times.

The song was born on her breathe and died at her lips.