| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 19cf9e6 | He let her do it, then looked around for his fingers. There they were, curled like a bloody quotation mark on the lead. He laughed. | fingers gruesome the-subtle-knife his-dark-materials | Philip Pullman | |
| ddf3fa6 | As we walk back, it feels like the city is engulfing us. Adrenalin still pours through our veins. Sparks flow through to our fingers. We've still been running in the mornings, but the city's different then. It's filled with hope and with bristles of winter sunshine. In the evening, it's like it dies, waiting to be born again the next morning. | hope dies fingers sparks morning sunshine walk running evening city | Markus Zusak |