Conor was no longer invisible. They all saw him now. But he was further away than ever.

No," I say firmly. "If you ever doubt anything here, if you ever not know what to think or who to trust, you trust Todd, okay? You remember that.

Superior numbers versus superior firepower. A recipe for unending slaughter.

In this world of numbness and information overload, the ability to feel, my boy, is a rare gift indeed.

Her accent's funny, different from mine, different from anyone in Prentisstown's. Her lips make different kinds of outlines for the letters, like they're swooping down on them from above, pushing them into shape, telling them what to say. In Prentisstown, everyone talks like they're sneaking up on their words, ready to club them from behind.

He was still alive. Which was the worst thing that could have happened.

Do we hate paradise so much we need to make sure it becomes a trash heap?