“. . .Consciousness came and went.Consciousness went and came like the errant winds of spring, and I, who so often have had difficulty in falling asleep among the besieging shades of memory, now fought to stay awake as a child struggles to lift a faltering kite by the string.”

“Someone once told me that children are like kites. You struggle just to get them in the air; they crash; you add a longer tail. Then they get caught in a tree; you climb up and bring them down, and untangle the string; you run to get them aloft again. Finally, the kite is airborne, and it flies higher and higher, as you let out more string, until it's so high in the sky, it looks like a bird. And if the string snaps, and you've done your job right, the kite will continue to soar in the wind, all by itself.”

“She fell asleep, and it was a sleep as thin as the night clouds, dotted with dreams that came and went like the stars.”

“And her life will perhaps be the richer, for holding now within it the memory of what came, but could not stay.”

“Her lips remind me of kite strings and I find myself thinking about panda bears. Panda bears do not fly kites, I tell myself. 'I thought you were dead,' she says.Maybe if you taped a kite to a panda paw and scared the panda so that it started running, the kite might start to lift off.”

“-Lara is a weasel. I've always hated her. The only happy week I had as a child was when she fell from the roof and went into a coma. She came out of it, though. Everyone was so happy.-Is that true? asked James.-No, said Grieve. But they would have been happy. Everyone thinks she's so clever. And I would be happy if she went away and never came back.”