1) "'Yeeah!' 'It's not my fault!' 'You killed her!' 'Shut up! It wasn't me. I'll show you who it was. [...] Look out there. LOOK! that's who done it. That's who killed y'r mother. The police, Silvia. They're not here t'protect us. They're here t'keep us workers in line... t'keep us poor an' tired... an' t'kill us if we try t'change that. An' they shot y'r mum because she wanted things different, un'erstand? They shot y'r mum because she wanted a better life f'r you, an' Elga, an' y'r little brother."

2) "'Well, our man in the Schupo says the paperwork confirms their claim that they never intended to let the demonstration occur at all.' 'So, either the police lied to the Communist leaders, or those leaders lied to the demonstrators. Which do you prefer?' 'Neither– But look, there's something else, something that troubles me more.' 'My summons to Leipzig.' 'Yes! What's it for?' 'Our article on the nascent air force has upset a few people, it seems.' 'But... On what grounds can they call you to a federal court?' 'Can't you guess? What's the last legal resort of a faltering state faced with evidence of its hypocrisy?' '...' 'I'm being charged with treason.'"

3) "'It's the air, my dear– the famous Berlinerluft! You've lived here nearly a year now– surely you've felt it before.' 'I suppose so... Kurt and I have stayed up all night together on more than one occasion, but I just assumed–' 'Of course, of course: 'love.' An assumption I've made myself, on more than one occasion in the past. And even with the very same man!' 'So you no longer believe in love?' '...I believe that people believe in love.'"

4) "'I'm afraid I'm not very good company these days. So– Help out a despairing pacifist. What is this 'other way' of seeing things?' 'Well... It's more, just... a comfort. Just think... The trees, the grass, the water, all of this beauty and life– The changing of the seasons, year after year, since long before we were born... No matter what happens to us, all of it will still be here long after we're gone.'"

5) "I feel ill. And I am not alone. When I see anyone else these days at the Romanisches, there is the usual spirited talk, but the words are thin, the faces pale. Even more than usual, we appear to subsist on coffee and cigarettes. Cups rattle in saucers, a statement delivered with a little more than the requisite passion collapses into a hacking cough. We know the routine, touch on the usual subjects, undercut our deepest hopes with reflexive cynicism. I derive little comfort from any of it. The world outside is filled with different sorts of words. Thanks to the emergency election, the rhetoric has come in thick, like smoke downwind of a burning building. The air is consumed by chanted slogans and playground songs, the sky held aloft by walls of words. Walking home, I see a copy of the paper disintegrating in the runoff from autumn's first rain. The letters slip away, one by one. And I sit here typing more of them; swimming against the tide."