Maybe a thing has to be smart enough to lose its mind.
Once she told me I looked like the sun to her, because of my hair. I asked her if I shined like the sun, and she told me, "No, Daddy, you shine more like the moon, when it's dark outside."
Only a box of birds, Malorie thinks. Yet, it does feel like progress.
The moment between deciding to open your eyes and then actually doing it is as scary a thing as there is in the new world.
It's better to face madness with a plan than to sit still and let it take you in pieces.
How can she expect her children to dream as big as the stars if they can't lift their heads to gaze upon them?
You can smell it, too. Death. Dying. Decay. The sky is falling, the sky is dying, the sky is dead.
"Is he friendly?" Tom says quietly. "I've discovered," Jules says, "that a dog will become fast friends with the people who feed him."
Man is the creature he fears.
