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Quote by Emma Richler

“But it's so silly, Mama!' pipes Zach, protesting with all the might of his twelve-year-old bellows and leaping to his feet, chest puffed, to fling a proprietary arm around his sister who fits so neatly in the crook of him, as if wrought for this place. He speaks for them both, though Rachel is some months his elder.”

Quote by Emma Richler

Book:Be My Wolff

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“Zach's eyes flash with light, caught by the peculiar greenness of early summer grass and the strobe effect of sun through wrought-iron fencing and trees. He kicks at dust and gravel with his unlaced desert boots, cricket spikes slung around his neck by the laces, his tread lazy and ostentatious, full of close-of-play sensuality.”

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Book:Be My Wolff

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“The hours stretch out in summer, the evenings go on and on; has he lost track of hours? Where are you, Zachariah? Come home! Rachel stands by the windows again, listening to the thrum in Camden Road and the Gardens behind, everything noisier on long summer afternoons, streets and voices, people speaking louder even face-to-face as if fighting to be heard over the seasonal rush of blood, over the bright light and heightened smells and unusual clamour of days. The city transfigured this year almost overnight and it has not rained in weeks. How the sun shines, how the rain falls, the qualities of light and precipitation, London has a microclimate all its own. London weather has powers of change, change and conjuration.”

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Book:Be My Wolff

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“There were no symbols on the breastplate, because he was not Radiant. Adolin had no idea what he was, other than the son of both Dalinar and Evi Kholin. The product of both of their hopes. He was Adolin Kholin. A man with very good friends.”

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“Platov said that the burning of Moscow has changed the world forever, it has changed Russians forever, landowner and serf, officer and peasant, all souls, nobody will ever think the same again, and Aleksei tried to fathom it, irreversible change, but it was raining in his head, as that Prussian fellow at the next table kept moaning.”

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Book:Be My Wolff

Source: Be My Wolff

“And am I there?' 'Always. I'd say, always. You're everywhere, in all the dreams. Sometimes it's your face I dream, but not you. Not your personality, not you at all except for the face. And sometimes I know it's you, definitely you, but your face is a blur—or you're not a person, but a dog or—”

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Book:Be My Wolff

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“And you wouldn't eat your egg.' 'My palace was inside.”

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Book:Be My Wolff

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“Rachel watches Zachariah and often, quite regularly, her heart skips a beat. If you map the ECG of the heart in phase space, its strange attractor resembles a spider. When Lev tutors Rachel in the principles of complexity, he has a dream of determinism, immanence. Through chaos, he shapes her. Through it he owns her. . . . When he teaches her to love the principles of complexity and see patterns in everything, the strange attractor that is Rachel and Zachariah is not what he had in mind; it is not a phase space he ever imagined.”

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Book:Be My Wolff

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“The bowler shakes his head in disgust at the run conceded and glares at Zach on the way back to his mark, a menace Zach shrugs off with a half smile, though Rachel can feel his hackles rising. Her own rise, too, in symbiosis.”

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“Zachariah, Zachariah,' whispers Rachel, casting a practised eye over the back of his head and down the length of him, from the shoulder blades where his wings once grew, epochs ago, in some other guise: angel—guardian, avenging—or great vagrant bird—Daurian Jackdaw, Chimney Swift, Pacific Loon!”

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“Rachel believes in it, the laws of of pattern formation and how they are universal: whatever she sees, crystallizing, a landscape of fractals, of emergence and symmetry, her world falling happily into shape where he must forge it, a pioneer of industry, sooty and scarred. For Rachel Wolff, quite simply, there are patterns everywhere, she can't help it; she is an illustrator, naturalist, cartographer—and her eye, a kaleidoscope.”

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