"It was in the clove of seasons, summer was dead but autumn had not yet been born, that the ibis lit in the bleeding tree."
"There is within me (and with sadness I have watched it in others) a knot of cruelty borne by the stream of love, much as our blood sometimes bears the seed of our destruction, and at times I was mean to Doodle."
Similes:
"Keeping a nice secret is very hard to do, like holding your breath."
"Even death did not mar its grace, for it lay on the earth like a broken vase of red flowers, and we stood around it, awed by its exotic beauty."