The point is, it didn’t really matter what the book was about. It was what it meant that was important.

I walked home, seeing all my doubt from the other side. Have you ever seen that? Like when you go on holiday. On the way back, everything is the same but it looks a little different than it did on the way. It's because you're seeing it backwards.

She took a step and didn't want to take any more, but she did.

The bittersweetness of uncertainty: To win or to lose.

It was one of those moments of perfect tiredness, of having conquered not only the work at hand, but the night who had blocked the way.

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

Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out.