“I'd thought of her with unblinking eyes, moving always, across the pages of opened books with rapid precision, but as she stood in front of me, her eyes looked slow and watery. I capsized into them.”

“My breathing slowed. I shaded her thick chestnut hair resting in a smooth curve against her face, a large bruise blazing across her cheek. I paused, looking over my shoulder to make certain I was alone. I drew her eye makeup, smudged by tears. In her watery eyes I drew the reflection of the commander, standing in front of her, his fist clenched. I continued to sketch, exhaled, and shook out my hands.”

“Her eyes watered until the moment became nothing more than floating colors in front of her watery eyes.”

“I was immediately aware of her when she stood at the window but I didn't move at first. I wanted to look at her with my human eyes.#Ren”

“Then her eyes are fluttering open and she's looking into me. Not at me, but into me.”

“She loved books. She loved them with her senses and her intellect. They way they looked and smelled; the way they felt in her hands; the way the pages seemed to murmur as she turned them. Everything there is in the world, she thought, is in books.”