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His grey eyes glowed in the reflection of the fire, like the coals of hell, and when he turned those eyes on her she felt, for the first time, a little afraid of him. This was not Hatch, her constant companion through the mouse hole. Nor was this the man who had methodically rescued her from a burning building. This was Hatcher, the murderer with the axe, the man who had been found covered in blood and surrounded by bodies.
If you go chasing your freedom your fate will only follow you there, and force you back.
“Start by holding your head high,” Hatcher said. “You’re only a mouse if you let them make you one.”
She must start believing in impossible things, for impossible things kept appearing before her eyes.
“Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I’m not right. And you were mad not so long ago yourself.”
In not being afraid she had frightened him, because a girl who was not afraid was a girl who might harm him.
It made Alice realize how much of life was full of empty stuff, objects longed for because the hope of them made your small life seem bigger, better, brighter.
