That is what all creatures great and small are made of. Leftover stardust. An atom exploded, and all the dust became the planets, the stars...and us. That's all anything amounts to.

We ourselves are made of Stardust.

Every second, another streak of silver glows: parentheses, exclamation points, commas--a whole grammar made of light, for words to hard to speak.

But the outsider in May, the one from Briery Swamp who had never fit quite right, kept her tucked safely in her nook.

I think the rest of the world is not as cold and lonely a place as you think. At least I have to hope.

She hated his need to always win and he hated her coldness during their arguments. They fought about the exact color of the sky and which path they should take on a hunt. They disagreed passionately about whose fish was the best tasting. They could work up extreme hatred for each other at a moment's notice.