“He’d only ever seen a gun once, a smaller one on the hip of that old deputy, a gun he’d always figured was more for show. He stuffed a fistful of deadly rounds in his pocket, thinking how each one could end an individual life, and understanding why such things were forbidden. Killing a man should be harder than waving a length of pipe in their direction. It should take long enough for one’s conscience to get in the way.”
“It turned out that some crooked things looked even worse when straightened. Some tangled knots only made sense once unraveled.”
“Even in the darkness, his smile threw shadows.”
“Better to join a ghost than to be haunted by them. Better no life than an empty one-”
“Her life was not yet over, she decided. It just felt this way.”
“We are born, we are shadows, we cast shadows of own, and then we are gone. All anyone can hope for is to be remembered two shadows deep.”
“We are not the people who made this world, Lukas, but it's up to us to survive it. You need to understand that.”
“We can't control where we are right now,” he mumbled, “just what we do going forward.”
“I guess what I'm sayin' is, if you want to give Jules a job, be very careful.”
“Why be careful?” Marnes asked.
Marck gazed up at the confusion of pipes and wires overhead.
“'Cause she'll damn well do it. Even if you don't really expect her to.”
“It was a sad loss, this illusion of importance, a humbling blow.”
“People were like machines. They broke down. They rattled. They could burn you or maim you if you weren't careful. Her job was not only to figure out why this happened and who was to blame, but also to listen for the signs of it coming. Being sheriff, like being a mechanic, was as much the fine art of preventive maintenance as it was the cleaning up after a breakdown.”
“We get no credit for being sane, do we? I get no credit. Even from me. From myself. I hold it together and hold it together and I make it another day, another year, and there’s no reward. Nothing great about me being normal. About not being crazy.” He frowned. “Then you have one bad day, and you worry for yourself, you know? It only takes one.”
“Once guns were made, who would unmake them? Barrels rested on shoulders and bristled like pincushions above the crowd. There were things, like spoken ideas, that were almost impossible to take back. And he reckoned his people were about to make many more of them.”
“Wisely and slowly; they stumble that run fast.”
“If the lies don't kill you, the truth will.”
“After a while, you're staying mad just to justify an old mistake. Then it's just a game. Two people staring away, refusing to look back over their shoulders, afraid to be the first one to take that chance.”
“Imagination, she figured, just wasn’t up to the task of understanding unique and foreign sensations. It knew only how to dampen or augment what it already knew. It would be like telling someone what sex felt like, or an orgasm. Impossible. But once you felt it yourself, you could then imagine varying degrees of this new sensation.”
“He continued to see inevitable events from the past as avoidable, long after they'd taken their course.”
“You laughed either to keep yourself sane or because you’d given up on staying that way. Either way, you laughed.”
“And now you see why some facts, some pieces of knowledge, have to be snuffed out as soon as they form. Curiosity would blow across such embers and burn this silo to the ground.”
“He was a good man, but he had a broken heart. That’ll take even the best of them down.”
“The point of the silo was for the people to keep the machines running, when Jahns had always, her entire long life, seen it the other way around.”
“Killing a man should be harder than waving a length of pipe in their direction. It should take long enough for one’s conscience to get in the way.”
“He sounded flustered. Juliette watched him busy about the stove, his movements jerky and manic, and realized she was the one cloistered away and ignorant, not him. He had all these books, decades of reading history, the company of ancestors she could only imagine. What did she have as her experience? A life in a dark hole with thousands of fellow, ignorant savages? She tried to remember this as she watched him dig a finger in his ear and then inspect his fingernail.”
“It was amazing to Knox that they all knew, instinctively, how to build implements of pain. It was something even shadows knew how to do at a young age, knowledge somehow dredged up from the brutal depths of their imagination, this ability to deal harm to one another.”
“Perhaps, with enough time in these walls, one could become resigned to things never getting better, or even changing all that much. Or maybe a person eventually lost hope that there was anything worth preserving at all.”
“The suit came up, and Holston thought that maybe people went along with it because they couldn't believe it was happening. None of it was real enough to rebel against. The animal part of his mind wasn't made for this, to be calmly ushered to a death it was perfectly aware of.”
“It made her sad, thinking about the consequences of their anger, their thirst for revenge. Her husband was gone, ripped from her, and for what? People were dying, and for what? She thought how things could've gone so differently, how they'd had all these dreams, unrealistic perhaps, of a real change in power, an easy fix to impossible and intractable problems. Back then she'd been unfairly treaded, but at least she'd been safe. There had been injustice, but she'd been in love. Did that make it okay? Which sacrifice made more sense?”
“Juliette felt a wash of fear and relief, those two opposites twisting together like staircase and rail.”
“Was this how it began? One silly woman with fire in her blood stirring the hearts of a legion of fools?”
“It’s always okay to admit when you don’t know something. If you couldn’t do this, you would never truly know anything.”
“Er was niets veranderd in de straat, zag ze. Het was nog steeds dezelfde rustige straat die ze altijd had gekend. Hoe was het mogelijk dat levens totaal konden veranderen, konden worden vernietigd, terwijl straten en gebouwen hetzelfde bleven, vroeg ze zich af.”
“La conciencia habla única y constantemente en la modalidad del silencio. (§ 56)”
“If you get killed,” she argued with a mix of despair and anger, “it’s not just you who’ll pay the price. I’ll have to pay, too, you know, for the rest of my life. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
“Consider, Mighty Creator of all things, the differences between Sindbad's life and mine. Every day I suffer a thousand hardships and misfortunes, and have hard work to get even enough bad barley bread to keep myself and my family alive, while the lucky Sindbad spends money right and left and lives upon the fat of the land! What has he done that you should give him this pleasant life— what have I done to deserve so hard a fate?”
“In the beginning we were a group of nine.
Three are gone, dead.
There are six of us left.
They are hunting us, and they won't stop until they've killed us all.
I am Number Four.
I know that I am next.”
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