“Duc?' The boy leaned against a twisted willow tree. 'Or bastard?”
“willow trees, willow trees they remind me of DesdemonaI'm so damned literaryand at the same time the waters rushing past remindme of nothing”
“Don't leave." He leaned his forehead against the door next to hers. "I'm a real bastard, I know, but don't leave, Lola.”
“The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows - a wall against the wind.”
“She fell asleep, leaning on his chest, and he edged her a little off a particularly painful bruise, leaned his head back against the tree he had propped them up against, and closed his own eyes. ”
“What a pity every child couldn't learn to read under a willow tree...”