We will never fight again, our lovely, quick, template-ready arguments. Our delicate cross-stitch of bickers. - P19
There is a fascinating constant exchange between Crow’s natural self and his civilised self, between the scavenger and the philosopher, the goddess of complete being and the black stain, between Crow and his birdness. It seems to me to be the self-same exchange between mourning and living, then and now. I could learn a lot from him. - P22