She looks at me. She does. She.

We sure as ruddy heck ain't in Prentisstown no more," I say to Manchee under my breath.

What a sad thing men are. Can’t do nothing good without being so weak we have to mess it up. Can’t build something up without tearing it down.

Knowledge is dangerous and men lie and the world changes, whether I want it to or not.

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.

And I know it - I know it in my heart - Right now - Todd Hewitt - There's nothing we can't do together -

Ideals, my girl,” she says. “Always easier to believe in than live.” “But if you don't at least try to live them,” Bradley says, “then there's no point in living at all.