“Glass & peace alike betray proof of fragility under repeated blows.”

“Sunlight bent around the world, lending fragile color to wildflowers.”

“Who was blowing on the nape of my neck.”

“Marinus blows out a mouthful of air. "Did close-range artillery knock any sense into you, or are we staying?”

“Peace, though beloved of our Lord, is a cardinal virtue only if your neighbors share your conscience.”

“At dawn the waves looked like mountain ranges tipped with gold as sunbeams slanted low under burgundy clouds.”

“Temple of the Rat King. Ark of the Soot God. Sphincter of Hades. Yes, King's Cross Station, where, according to Knuckle Sandwich, a blow job costs only five quid - any of the furthest-left three cubicles in the men's lavvy downstairs, twenty-four hours a day.”