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His body had been up to all sorts of things without him.
When he was unhappy, Jem turned even better-spoken than usual, until there was so much cut glass in his voice that speaking to him was more like trying to talk to a chandelier than a person.
whether you liked it or not, five minutes with someone kind and clever was cleansing, like green tea, or confession.
We are violent creatures, but ours is a rage much more accustomed to suppression than the flabby undisciplined version found in men.
it was a hollow, worried anger that came of the suspicion he’d done something truly stupid.
He felt like that man from the story who, because he couldn’t pay in coins, had to pay with an equal measure of flesh flensed off his chest.
