“Peter tucked the glasses into the front pocket of Jordan’s jacket. “I kind of like knowing you’retaking care of them,” he said. “And there isn’t all that much I really want to see.”Jordan nodded. He walked out of the holding cell and said good-bye to the deputies. Then heheaded toward the lobby, where Selena was waiting.As he approached her, he put on Peter’s glasses. “What’s up with those?” she asked.“I kind of like them.”“You have perfect vision,” Selena pointed out.Jordan considered the way the lenses made the world curve in at the ends, so that he had to movemore gingerly through it. “Not always,” he said.”

“He said he was - this is exactly what he said - he said he was sitting at the table in the kitchen, all by himself, drinking a glass of ginger ale and eating saltines and reading 'Dombey and Son', and all of a sudden Jesus sat down in the other chair and asked if he could have a small glass of ginger ale. A small glass, mind you - that's exactly what he said. I mean he says things like that, and yet he thinks he's perfectly qualified to give me a lot of advice and stuff! I could just spit! I could! It's like being in a lunatic asylum and having another patient all dressed up as a doctor come over to you and start taking your pulse or something…”

“I think it’s sad that we’ll never know her,” Chase said. She glanced over at him suspiciously. “Think of how many people there are in the world that you’ll never know. Like that guy right there,” he said, nodding toward the car that whizzed by them. “What’s that guy’s name? Where’s he going? Is he happy with his life? Did he want Bella to end up with Edward or Jacob?”

“Could I be your girl, too?" I asked quickly.The large, broad-shouldered man looked away before he answered. "Well, now," he said, as though he had given it deep thought, "I sure do think I would like that.""But," I said, concerned that he hadn't noticed, "I don't look like your other girls.""You mean because you white?"I nodded. "Abinia," he said, pointing toward the chickens, "you look at those birds. Some of them be brown, some of them be white and black. Do you think when they little chicks, those mamas and papas care about that?”

“I guess it's like James Joyce when he was a kid, you know. He hung out with all the great writers of the day, and he was a little kid, like, with tennis shoes on, and they said 'Look at this lame!' They didn't use those words in those days. They said 'God, here comes this nut.' And he told them, 'I'm great!' And he sat with them, and he loved to be with them, and it ended up that he was great.”

“You know,” he said, “I wish you could see this cave.”“What’s it like?”He paused. “It’s...beautiful, really.”“Tell me.”And so Po described to Katsa what hid in the blackness of the cave; and outside, the world awaited them.”