# data[].attributes.body
Favorite:
You wanted to know what the bad guys looked like. Now you know. It may happen again. My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand? Yes. He sat there cowled in the blanket. After a while he looked up. Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys. And we always will be. Yes. We always will be. Okay.
Page 77
MVP:
You wanted to know what the bad guys looked like. Now you know. It may happen again. My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand? Yes. He sat there cowled in the blanket. After a while he looked up. Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys. And we always will be. Yes. We always will be. Okay.
Page 77
Poetic
He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair. The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever.
Page 89
???
The dog that he remembers followed us for two days. I tried to coax it to come but it would not. I made a noose of wire to catch it. There were three cartridges in the pistol. None to spare. She walked away down the road. The boy looked after her and then he looked at me and then he looked at the dog and he began to cry and to beg for the dog's life and I promised I would not hurt the dog. A trellis of a dog with the hide stretched over it. The next day it was gone. That is the dog he remembers. He doesnt remember any little boys.
Page 87

# data[].attributes.body
Fav:  What is it, Papa? Nothing. We're okay. Go to sleep. We're going to be okay, arent we Papa? Yes. We are. And nothing bad is going to happen to us. That's right. Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire. pg. 83

Poetic:  . This was the first human being other than the boy that he'd spoken to in more than a year. My brother at last. The reptilian calculations in those cold and shifting eyes. The gray and rotting teeth. Claggy with human flesh. Who has made of the world a lie every word. pg. 75

MVP:  That's all there is, isnt it? he said. Yes. Are we going to die now? No. What are we going to do? We're going to drink some water. Then we're going to keep going down the road. Okay. pg 87-88

??:  The man thought he seemed some sad and solitary changeling child announcing the arrival of a traveling spectacle in shire and village who does not know that behind him the players have all been carried off by wolves. pg. 78

# data[].attributes.body
???:  The reptilian calculations in those cold and shifting eyes. The gray and rotting teeth. Claggy with human flesh. Who has made of the world a lie every word. (75)
Fav: You wanted to know what the bad guys looked like. Now you know. It may happen again. My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand? 77
Poetic: He tried to think of something to say but he could not. He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair. The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever. 89
MVP:  He tried to think of something to say but he could not. He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair. The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever. 89

# data[].attributes.body
Fav: He sat there cowled in the blanket. After a while he looked up. Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys. And we always will be. Yes. We always will be. p77

Poetic: " He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair. The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat.  In time to wink out forever. " p88

MVP: " Where are we? Where are we? Yes. I dont know. If we were going to die would you tell me? I dont know. We're not going to die. "
???" My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. "p77

# data[].attributes.body
Fav:  They listened. Then in the distance he heard a dog bark. He turned and looked toward the darkening town. It's a dog, he said. A dog? Yes. Where did it come from? I dont know. We're not going to kill it, are we Papa? No. We're not going to kill it. He looked down at the boy. Shivering in his coats. He bent over and kissed him on his gritty brow. We wont hurt the dog, he said. I promise. (82)

Poetic:  The dog that he remembers followed us for two days. I tried to coax it to come but it would not. I made a noose of wire to catch it. There were three cartridges in the pistol. None to spare. She walked away down the road. The boy looked after her and then he looked at me and then he looked at the dog and he began to cry and to beg for the dog's life and I promised I would not hurt the dog. A trellis of a dog with the hide stretched over it. The next day it was gone. That is the dog he remembers. He doesnt remember any little boys. (87)

MVP:  You wanted to know what the bad guys looked like. Now you know. It may happen again. My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand? (77)

???:

He'd carved the boy a flute from a piece of roadside cane and he took it from his coat and gave it to him. The boy took it wordlessly. After a while he fell back and after a while the man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from out of the ashes of its ruin. The man turned and looked back at him. He was lost in concentration. The man thought he seemed some sad and solitary changeling child announcing the arrival of a traveling spectacle in shire and village who does not know that behind him the players have all been carried off by wolves. (77-78)

# data[].attributes.body
Fav: When they'd eaten he took the boy out on the gravelbar below the bridge and he pushed away the thin shore ice with a stick and they knelt there while he washed the boy's face and his hair. The water was so cold the boy was crying. They moved down the gravel to find fresh water and he washed his hair again as well as he could and finally stopped because the boy was moaning with the cold of it. He dried him with the blanket, kneeling there in the glow of the light with the shadow of the bridge's understructure broken across the palisade of treetrunks beyond the creek. This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job. Then he wrapped him in the blanket and carried him to the fire. (74)
Poetic: In the morning a cold rain was falling. It gusted over the car even under the overpass and it danced in the road beyond. They sat and watched through the water on the glass. By the time it had slacked a good part of the day was gone. They left the coats and the blanket in the floor of the back seat and went up the road to search through more of the houses. Woodsmoke on the damp air. They never heard the dog again. (77)
MVP: I'm really hungry, Papa. I know. Will we be able to find our stuff? Yes. I know where it is. What if somebody finds it? They wont find it. I hope they dont. They wont. Come on. What was that? I didnt hear anything. Listen. I dont hear anything. (81)
???: What are you doing? he hissed. What are you doing? There's a little boy, Papa. There's a little boy. There's no little boy. What are you doing? Yes there is. I saw him. I told you to stay put. Didnt I tell you? Now we've got to go. Come on. I just wanted to see him, Papa. I just wanted to see him. (84)

# data[].attributes.body
Fav: "You wanted to know what the bad guys looked like. Now you know. It may happen again. My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand?" (pg 77)
MVP: "Because we're carrying the fire." (pg. 83)
???: "The man thought he seemed some sad and solitary changeling child announcing the arrival of a traveling spectacle in shire and village who does no know that behind him the players have all been carried off by wolves." (pg. 78)

# data[].attributes.body
fav: "This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job. Then he wrapped him in the blanket and carried him to the fire.
The boy sat tottering. The man watched him that he not topple into the flames. He kicked holes in the sand for the boy's hips and shoulders where he would sleep and he sat holding him while he tousled his hair before the fire to dry it." (pg 74)
Poetic:" He tried to think of something to say but he could not. He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair. The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought." (pg 88)

MVP: same as poetic passage
???:The dog that he remembers followed us for two days. I tried to coax it to come but it would not. I made a noose of wire to catch it. There were three cartridges in the pistol. None to spare. She walked away down the road. The boy looked after her and then he looked at me and then he looked at the dog and he began to cry and to beg for the dog's life and I promised I would not hurt the dog. A trellis of a dog with the hide stretched over it. The next day it was gone. That is the dog he remembers. He doesnt remember any little boys.
pg. 87

# data[].attributes.body
Fav-This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job. (74)
Poetic- Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys. And we always will be. Yes. We always will be. Okay. (77)
Mvp- There's no one to see. Do you want to die? Is that what you want? I dont care, the boy said, sobbing. I dont care. The man stopped. He stopped and squatted and held him. I'm sorry, he said. Dont say that. You musnt say that. (85)
???- My brother at last. The reptilian calculations in those cold and shifting eyes. The gray and rotting teeth. Claggy with human flesh. Who has made of the world a lie every word. (75)

# data[].attributes.body
Fav: "My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand?" (77)
Poetic: "A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from out of the ashes of its ruin" (77).
MVP: "He sat there cowled in the blanket. After a while he looked up. Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys. And we always will be. Yes. We always will be" (77).
Idk:  "A boy, about his age, wrapped in an out-sized wool coat with the sleeves turned back. He stood up. He ran across the road and up the drive. No one there. He looked toward the house and then he ran to the bottom of the yard through the dead weeds to a still black creek. Come back, he called. I wont hurt you. He was standing there crying when his father came sprinting across the road and seized him by the arm. What are you doing? he hissed. What are you doing? There's a little boy, Papa. There's a little boy. There's no little boy. What are you doing" (84).

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite : "This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job. Then he wrapped him in the blanket and carried him to the fire. (74)

Poetic: "After a while he fell back and after a while the man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from out of the ashes of its ruin" (77).

MVP:
He sat there cowled in the blanket. After a while he looked up. Are we still the
good guys? he said.
Yes. We're still the good guys.
And we always will be.
Yes. We always will be.
Okay"   (73)

???: and nothing bad is going to happen to us. That's right. Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire " (83)

# data[].attributes.body
Fav:  This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job. Then he wrapped him in the blanket and carried him to the fire. (74)

Poetic: After a while he fell back and after a while the man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from out of the ashes of its ruin (77)

MVP: Where are we? he said. What is it, Papa?
Nothing. We're okay. Go to sleep.
We're going to be okay, arent we Papa?
Yes. We are.
And nothing bad is going to happen to us. T
hat's right.
Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire. (83)

????: All of this like some ancient anointing. So be it. Evoke the forms. Where you've nothing else construct ceremonies out of the air and breathe upon them. (74)

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite and most poetic:  "He'd carved the boy a flute from a piece of roadside cane and he took it from his coat and gave it to him. The boy took it wordlessly. After a while he fell back and after a while the man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from out of the ashes of its ruin. The man turned and looked back at him. He was lost in concentration. The man thought he seemed some sad and solitary changeling child announcing the arrival of a traveling spectacle in shire and village who does not know that behind him the players have all been carried off by wolves." (39)

MVP: " And nothing bad is going to happen to us. That's right. Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire. " (42)

No clue:  "My brother at last. The reptilian calculations in those cold and shifting eyes. The gray and rotting teeth. Claggy with human flesh. Who has made of the world a lie every word." (38)

# data[].attributes.body
FAV: "This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job." (74)

" He tried to think of something to say but he could not. He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair. The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever." (89)

POETIC: " In the morning they came up out of the ravine and took to the road again. He'd carved the boy a flute from a piece of roadside cane and he took it from his coat and gave it to him. The boy took it wordlessly. After a while he fell back and after a while the man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from out of the ashes of its ruin." (77)

P and ?: " He tried to think of something to say but he could not. He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair. The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever." (89)

MVP:  "My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God." (77)

????:  "The dog that he remembers followed us for two days. I tried to coax it to come but it would not. I made a noose of wire to catch it. There were three cartridges in the pistol. None to spare. She walked away down the road. The boy looked after her and then he looked at me and then he looked at the dog and he began to cry and to beg for the dog's life and I promised I would not hurt the dog. A trellis of a dog with the hide stretched over it. The next day it was gone. That is the dog he remembers. He doesnt remember any little boys." (87)

# data[].attributes.body
Fav: " This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job. Then he wrapped him in the blanket and carried him to the fire" (74).

Poetic: "After a while he fell back and after a while the man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from out of the ashes of its ruin" (77).

MVP: "My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand? Yes. He sat there cowled in the blanket. After a while he looked up. Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys. And we always will be. Yes. We always will be. Okay" (77).

????: "All of this like some ancient anointing. So be it. Evoke the forms. Where you've nothing else construct ceremonies out of the air and breathe upon them" (74).

# data[].attributes.body
Fav:
"He sat there cowled in the blanket. After a while he looked up. Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys. And we always will be. Yes. We always will be. Okay."-Pg.77

Poetic:
"He'd come to see a message in each such late history, a message and a warning, and so this tableau of the slain and the devoured did prove to be." - pg.89

MVP:
"What are you doing? he hissed. What are you doing? There's a little boy, Papa. There's a little boy. There's no little boy. What are you doing? Yes there is. I saw him. I told you to stay put. Didnt I tell you? Now we've got to go. Come on. I just wanted to see him, Papa. I just wanted to see him. The man took him by the arm and they went back up through the yard. The boy would not stop crying and he would not stop looking back. Come on, the man said. We've got to go. I want to see him, Papa. There's no one to see. Do you want to die? Is that what you want? I dont care, the boy said, sobbing. I dont care. The man stopped. He stopped and squatted and held him. I'm sorry, he said. Dont say that. You musnt say that." - Pg. 84

???:
"He'd come to see a message in each such late history, a message and a warning, and so this tableau of the slain and the devoured did prove to be. " - Pg. 89

# data[].attributes.body
Fav: Page 77-  You wanted to know what the bad guys looked like. Now you know. It may happen again. My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand? Yes. He sat there cowled in the blanket. After a while he looked up. Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys. And we always will be. Yes. We always will be. Okay

Poetic: Page 89-  The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever.

MVP: Page 85-   I just wanted to see him, Papa. I just wanted to see him. The man took him by the arm and they went back up through the yard. The boy would not stop crying and he would not stop looking back. Come on, the man said. We've got to go. I want to see him, Papa. There's no one to see. Do you want to die? Is that what you want? I dont care, the boy said, sobbing. I dont care. The man stopped. He stopped and squatted and held him. I'm sorry, he said. Dont say that. You mustn't say that.

???: Page 87-  She walked away down the road. The boy looked after her and then he looked at me and then he looked at the dog and he began to cry and to beg for the dog's life and I promised I would not hurt the dog. A trellis of a dog with the hide stretched over it. The next day it was gone. That is the dog he remembers. He doesn't remember any little boys.

# data[].attributes.body
fav: 88-89  The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true
Poetic: pg 88-89  The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true
MVP:  pg. 77 Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys. And we always will be. Yes. We always will be.
???: pg 87  The next day it was gone. That is the dog he remembers. He doesnt remember any little boys.

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite:  "We're going to be okay, arent we Papa? Yes. We are. And nothing bad is going to happen to us. That's right. Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire" (83).

Poetic:  The shapes of the small tree-limbs burning incandescent orange in the coals. He blew the flames to life and piled on the wood and sat with his legs crossed, leaning against the stone pier of the bridge. Heavy limestone blocks laid up without mortar. Overhead the ironwork brown with rust, the hammered rivets, the wooden sleepers and crossplanks. The sand where he sat was warm to the touch but the night beyond the fire was sharp with the cold (74-75).

MVP:  We should go get him, Papa. We could get him and take him with us. We could take him and we could take the dog. The dog could catch something to eat. We cant. And I'd give that little boy half of my food. Stop it. We cant. He was crying again. What about the little boy? he sobbed. What about the little boy? (86)

???: The boy looked after her and then he looked at me and then he looked at the dog and he began to cry and to beg for the dog's life and I promised I would not hurt the dog. A trellis of a dog with the hide stretched over it. The next day it was gone. That is the dog he remembers. He doesnt remember any little boys (87).

# data[].attributes.body
Fav: " You wanted to know what the bad guys looked like. Now you know. It may happen again. My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand? Yes." (77)

Poetic: " The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever." (88)

MVP:  "He dried him with the blanket, kneeling there in the glow of the light with the shadow of the bridge's understructure broken across the palisade of treetrunks beyond the creek. This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job. Then he wrapped him in the blanket and carried him to the fire." (74)

???: " She walked away down the road. The boy looked after her and then he looked at me and then he looked at the dog and he began to cry and to beg for the dog's life and I promised I would not hurt the dog. A trellis of a dog with the hide stretched over it. The next day it was gone. That is the dog he remembers. He doesnt remember any little boys." (87)

# data[].attributes.body
Fav:  You wanted to know what the bad guys looked like. Now you know. It may happen again. My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand? (77).

MVP:  He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair. The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat.  In time to wink out forever. "  (88).

Poetic:   "After a while he fell back and after a while the man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from out of the ashes of its ruin" (77).

Unsure:  All the wood they had to burn was small wood and the fire was good for no more than an hour or perhaps a bit more. He dragged the rest of the brush in under the bridge and broke it up, standing on the limbs and cracking them to length. He thought the noise would wake the boy but it didnt. The wet wood hissed in the flames, the snow continued to fall. In the morning they would see if there were tracks in the road or not. This was the first human being other than the boy that he'd spoken to in more than a year. My brother at last. The reptilian calculations in those cold and shifting eyes. The gray and rotting teeth. Claggy with human flesh. Who has made of the world a lie every word. When he woke again the snow had stopped and the grainy dawn was shaping out the naked woodlands beyond the bridge, the trees black against the snow. He was lying curled up with his hands between his knees and he sat up and got the fire going and he set a can of beets in the embers. The boy lay huddled on the ground watching him" (75-76).

# data[].attributes.body
Poetic: He'd had this feeling before, beyond the numbness and the dull despair. The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the names of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever. (88)
Fave: What if that little boy doesnt have anybody to take care of him? he said. What if he doesnt have a papa? There are people there. They were just hiding .(85)
MVP: What do you see? the boy said. Nothing. He handed the binoculars across. The boy slung the strap over his neck and put them to his eyes and adjusted the wheel. Everything about them so still. I see smoke, he said. Where. Past those buildings. What buildings? The boy handed the glasses back and he refocused them. The palest wisp. Yes, he said. I see it. What should we do, Papa? I think we should take a look. We just have to be careful. If it's a commune they'll have barricades. But it may just be refugees. Like us. Yes. Like us. What if it's the bad guys? We'll have to take a risk. We need to find something to eat. (78)
????: The dog that he remembers followed us for two days. I tried to coax it to come but it would not. I made a noose of wire to catch it. There were three cartridges in the pistol. None to spare. She walked away down the road. The boy looked after her and then he looked at me and then he looked at the dog and he began to cry and to beg for the dog's life and I promised I would not hurt the dog. A trellis of a dog with the hide stretched over it. The next day it was gone. That is the dog he remembers. He doesnt remember any little boys. (87)

# data[].attributes.body
Fav:  This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job. Then he wrapped him in the blanket and carried him to the fire. (74)

Poetic:  I want to see him, Papa. There's no one to see. Do you want to die? Is that what you want? I dont care, the boy said, sobbing. I dont care. The man stopped. He stopped and squatted and held him. I'm sorry, he said. Dont say that. You musnt say that. (85)

Unsure:  In the morning they would see if there were tracks in the road or not. This was the first human being other than the boy that he'd spoken to in more than a year. My brother at last. The reptilian calculations in those cold and shifting eyes. The gray and rotting teeth. Claggy with human flesh. Who has made of the world a lie every word. When he woke again the snow had stopped and the grainy dawn was shaping out the naked woodlands beyond the bridge, the trees black against the snow. He was lying curled up with his hands between his knees and he sat up and got the fire going and he set a can of beets in the embers. The boy lay huddled on the ground watching him. (75-76)

MVP:

You wanted to know what the bad guys looked like. Now you know. It may happen again. My job is to take care of you. I was appointed to do that by God. I will kill anyone who touches you. Do you understand? Yes. He sat there cowled in the blanket. After a while he looked up. Are we still the good guys? he said. Yes. We're still the good guys. And we always will be. Yes. We always will be. Okay. (77)

# data[].attributes.body
Fav:
I want to see him, Papa. There's no one to see. Do you want to die? Is that what you want? I dont care, the boy said, sobbing. I dont care. The man stopped. He stopped and squatted and held him. I'm sorry, he said. Dont say that. You musnt say that. (84)
MVP:
This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job. Then he wrapped him in the blanket and carried him to the fire. (74)
Poetic:
After a while he fell back and after a while the man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from out of the ashes of its ruin. The man turned and looked back at him. He was lost in concentration. The man thought he seemed some sad and solitary changeling child announcing the arrival of a traveling spectacle in shire and village who does not know that behind him the players have all been carried off by wolves.
(77)
???: This was the first human being other than the boy that he'd spoken to in more than a year. My brother at last. The reptilian calculations in those cold and shifting eyes. The gray and rotting teeth. Claggy with human flesh. Who has made of the world a lie every word. (75)