# data[].attributes.body
MVP- The boy was sitting on the steps when he saw something move at the rear of the house across the road. A face was looking at him. 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? 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. (84-85)
Poetic-  Golden chalice, good to house a god. Please dont tell me how the story ends. When he looked out again at the darkness beyond the bridge it was snowing. (75)
Fav- The boy was sitting on the steps when he saw something move at the rear of the house across the road. A face was looking at him. 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? 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. (84-85)
??-  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. 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
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. (84-85)
FAV/ POETIC-  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. (p 37)

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite:  They slept in a parked car beneath an overpass with the suitcoats and the blanket piled over them. In the darkness and the silence he could see bits of light that appeared random on the night grid. The higher floors of the buildings were all dark. You'd have to carry up water. You could be smoked out. What were they eating? God knows. They sat wrapped in the coats looking out the window. Who are they, Papa? I dont know. (82)
Poetic + ??: 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)
MVP: He woke in the night and lay listening. He couldnt remember where he was. The thought made him smile. 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. That's right. Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire (83)

# 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. 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. 77
Valuable/poetic: He sat crosslegged in the leaves at the crest of a ridge and glassed the valley below them with the binoculars. The still poured shape of a river. The dark brick stacks of a mill. Slate roofs. An old wooden watertower bound with iron hoops. No smoke, no movement of life. He lowered the glasses and sat watching. 78
No sense:  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. 83

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite: (Page 85) 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.
Poetic: (Page 83) He woke in the night and lay listening. He couldnt remember where he was. The thought made him smile. 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. That's right. Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire.
MVP:  (Page 86) The boy was pulling at his coat. Papa, he said. What? I'm afraid for that little boy. I know. But he'll be all right. 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?
???:  (Page 3) Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire.

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite-

He woke in the night and lay listening. He couldnt remember where he was. The thought made him smile. 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. That's right. Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire. (pg 83)

Most Poetic-   The sand where he sat was warm to the touch but the night beyond the fire was sharp with the cold. He got up and dragged fresh wood in under the bridge. He stood listening. The boy didnt stir. He sat beside him and stroked his pale and tangled hair. Golden chalice, good to house a god. Please dont tell me how the story ends. (pg 75)

MVP-  He woke in the night and lay listening. He couldnt remember where he was. The thought made him smile. 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. That's right. Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire. (pg 83)

?-  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)

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite -  Everything smelled of damp and rot. In the first bedroom a dried corpse with the covers about its neck. Remnants of rotted hair on the pillow. He took hold of the lower hem of the blanket and towed it off the bed and shook it out and folded it under his arm. He went through the bureaus and the closets. A summer dress on a wire hanger. Nothing. He went back down the stairs. It was getting dark. He took the boy by the hand and they went out the front door to the street. (80-81)
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 -  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)
??? -  There were three cartridges in the pistol. (87)

# 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. " (77)
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. " (83)
MVP: "The boy was sitting on the steps when he saw something move at the rear of the house across the road. A face was looking at him. 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." (84)
No Sense: "Because we're carrying the fire. Yes. Because we're carrying the fire." (83

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite:  He woke in the night and lay listening. He couldn't remember where he was. The thought made him smile. (page 83)

Most Poetic-  We're going to be okay, aren't 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)

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)

No Sense-  My brother at last. The reptilian calculations in those cold and shifting eyes. The gray and rotting teeth.

# data[].attributes.body
Fav: (77) 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. 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.
Poetic:  (75) 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
MVP:  (84) The boy was sitting on the steps when he saw something move at the rear of the house across the road. A face was looking at him. 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? 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.
no sense:  same as poetic

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite:  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. (page 77)
Most Poetic:  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. (page 83)
Most Valuable:  I'm afraid for that little boy. I know. But he'll be all right. 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? (page 86)
???:   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
Favorite-  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. (73)

Poetic-  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)

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

???: He got up and dragged fresh wood in under the bridge. He stood listening. The boy didnt stir. He sat beside him and stroked his pale and tangled hair. Golden chalice, good to house a god. Please dont tell me how the story ends (75)

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite/poetic: Where you've nothing else construct ceremonies out of the air and breathe upon them. (74)
MVP: We're going to be okay, aren't 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)
???: 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)

# data[].attributes.body
Favorite:  pg. 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?

Poetic: pg 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.

Most valuable: pg.84
The boy was sitting on the steps when he saw something move at the rear of the house across the road. A face was looking at him. 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.

No sense:  pg 75
My brother at last. The reptilian calculations in those cold and shifting eyes. The gray and rotting teeth.

# data[].attributes.body
favorite:

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. (80)

Poetic: The sand where he sat was warm to the touch but the night beyond the fire was sharp with the cold. He got up and dragged fresh wood in under the bridge. He stood listening. The boy didnt stir. He sat beside him and stroked his pale and tangled hair. Golden chalice, good to house a god. Please dont tell me how the story ends. When he looked out again at the darkness beyond the bridge it was snowing
(38)

Valuable passage: I should have been more careful, he said. The boy didnt answer. You have to talk to me. Okay. 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.
(39)
Doesn't make sense:  So be it. Evoke the forms. Where you've nothing else construct ceremonies out of the air and breathe upon them.
(38)