8
" He played the opening bars again, opening a door for her, inviting her to join. She started quietly, almost voiceless, only a thin string of sound weaving herself into his tune, as if her voice were just another string on the guitar between his fingers. She had to be careful, so no one saw the changes on her face. But she didn't want to be careful; she couldn't be careful. He played and she sang to him, and inside her more and more blocks of ice began to melt, cracking and falling into the frozen sea between them. She sang of all the things that were happening to her and him, the world that collapsed over both of them, the things that might be in store, if only they dared to believe it was possible. "
― David Grossman , Someone to Run With
15
" Now--she reached down that far, she submerged her filthy self, full of choked cries, of loneliness and poison, until she felt it rising up. It was being pulled out, saved from herself--and she was rising along with it, slowly: who she was now, what she had lost in the past year, and what was growing, slowly, inside her, in spite of everything. "
― David Grossman , Someone to Run With
16
" You need a man with a big hand," Leah pronounced. "You know why?"
"Why?" She knew she would now be painted a picture.
"Someone who will stand with his hand up, open, strong, steady -- like the Statue of Liberty, but without that ice-cream cone she's holding -- only his hand, open, in the air. And then" -- Leah raised her square, rough, nail-bitten hand and moved it gently from side to side, like a flying bird -- "even from far away, from any place in the world, you'd see that hand and know you had a place to land and rest. "
― David Grossman , Someone to Run With