You can kill a man with those words. No gun. No bullets. Just words and a girl.

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

Yes, the sky was now a devastating, home-cooked red. The small German town had been flung apart one more time. Snowflakes of ash fell so lovelily you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them, taste them. Only, they would have scorched your lips. They would have cooked your mouth.

As we walk back, it feels like the city is engulfing us. Adrenalin still pours through our veins. Sparks flow through to our fingers. We've still been running in the mornings, but the city's different then. It's filled with hope and with bristles of winter sunshine. In the evening, it's like it dies, waiting to be born again the next morning.

The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences.

... And the boy whose hair remained the color of lemons forever.

Sometimes you read a book so special that you want to carry it around with you for months after you've finished just to stay near it.