He had what he called just a small ration of tools:
A painted book.
A handful of pencils.
A mindful of thoughts.
Like a simple puzzle, he put them together.

If your eyes could speak, what would they say?.

When death captures me," the boy vowed, "he will feel my fist in his face." (31.26)

Here is a small fact: You are going to die"
"does this scare you? I urge you don't be afraid, I'm nothing if not fair"
- Death

There are skies manufactured by people, punctured and leaking,and there are soft,coal-colored clouds, beating like black hearts

She was a Jew feeder without a question in the world on that man's first night in Molching. She was an arm reacher, deep into a mattress, to deliver a sketchbook to a teenage girl. (84.25)