War makes monsters out of men.

I want a campfire box.

That's another thing about Noise. Everything that's ever happened to you just keeps right on talking, for ever and ever.

You are keeping the possibility [of peace] open. No wise leader would do anything less

Like how stars might sound. Or moons But not mountains. Too floaty for mountains. It's a sound like one planet singing to another, high stretched and full of different voices starting at different notes and sloping down to other different notes but all weaving together in a rope of sound that's sad but not sad and slow but not slow and all singing one word. One word.

No one ever seems to wonder what happens if it turns out we hate living on a planet? What if the sky’s too big? What if the air stinks? What if we go hungry?’ ‘And what if the air tastes of honey? What if there’s so much food we all get too fat? What if the sky is so beautiful we don’t get any work done because we’re all looking at it too much?

You love him," he says. Not an asking, just a fact. "I do," I say. Also a fact.