“Your tummy, soft aswarm dough. I knead and knead, thenbake it with a nap.”

“Kneading memory makes the dough of fiction; which we know, sometimes never stops rising.”

“The kneading of memory makes the dough of fiction, which, as we know, can go on yeasting for ever...”

“Chris's tongue traced a path of fire down Tia's neck. His hands sought her breasts, kneading the soft flesh.”

“Even the air of this country has a story to tell about warfare. It is possible here to lift a piece of bread from a plate and following it back to its origins, collect a dozen stories concerning war-how it affected the hand that pulled it out of the oven, the hand that kneaded the dough, how war impinged upon the field where wheat was grown.”

“The veil that clouds your eyes shall be lifted by the hands that wove it, And the clay that fills your ears shall be pierced by those fingers that kneaded it. And you shall see.And you shall hear.”