SON - LOIS LOWRY

Son - Pg 292

   Frightened by his own feelings, he had listened mutely to the wails of grief that permeated the community. That day had changed him. It had changed the entire village. Shaken by the death of a boy they had loved, each person had found ways to be more worthy of the sacrifice he had made. They had become kinder, more careful, more attentive to one another.

Son - Pg 289

   Kira's father had been blind, and sound had been his life. He knew--and could imitate--each bird's call and song; they came from the trees, unafraid, to eat from his outstretched hands. The entire village had gathered to sing a farewell as he was laid to rest, but the only song that day was theirs; the birds had fallen silent, as if they mourned.

Son - Pg 215

   She glanced at him and saw that he was teasing her. His look was fond. He turned away quickly and tried to hide the fondness, but Claire knew. She had seen him look that way at a half-grown lamb prancing in the meadow on a midsummer afternoon, admiring its agile charm. She had seen him look that way at her, and knew there was a longing to his gaze.

Son - Pg 171

   Claire stood silent, awed by the music, puzzled by the concept of love, and moved by both the solemnity and the celebration of the occasion.

Son - Pg 160

   "Will you go to school soon?" she asked Bethan.
   "What be school?"
   She didn't know how to answer the child. And maybe, she realized, it wasn't important. Six letters; they made a name. What did it matter? She looked again at the word she had written then erased it with her own toes, stamped the sand firm, and tossed the stick into a pile of glistening kelp nearby.

Son - Pg 149

   "Smell," Alys told her, and held it to the girl's nose.
   "Old," Claire said. "Sweet." She leaned back in the chair and sighed. "What is it?"
   "Beach roses from sixty years ago."
   "Why--"
   "To hold memories. Scents do that. When you smelled the tea--"
   "Yes. For a moment something came back," the girl acknowledged. "Like a bit of breeze. It drifted past. I couldn't keep it with me. I wanted--" But she couldn't say what she wanted. She sighed and shook her head. "It went away."
   "It was waiting."

Son - Pg 146

   To herself, she murmured, shaking her head with amusement as her eyes twinkled at her own memory. "Only thirteen. But we was barefoot and flower-strewn and foolish with first love."

Son - Pg 141

   She stood often on the shore with the wind blowing her hair and molding her skirt against her legs. She watched the horizon as if she waited. But she had no knowledge of what she waited for. The sea had drunk her memories away, leaving only her name.

Son - Pg 135

   The village nestled at the foot of a forbidding cliff in the curved elbow of an arm of land. The peninsula jutted out from the main coast in an isolated place where time didn't matter, for nothing changed.

Son - Pg 135

   Now and then one stopped, turned, and looked out toward the sea and the horizon with its darkening sky as if searching for the silhouette of a vessel that might have thrown this astonishing gift their way. But there was nothing there but what had always been there: empty ocean the color of pewter, tarnishing to black now as night fell.

Son - Pg 116

   And so she was the one who felt things. The only one! It was why she yearned for the child, and felt her heart melt each time his little hand waved and he said "Bye-bye" to her, calling out her name in his silvery voice, smiling that amazing smile.
   She would not let them take that from her, that feeling. If someone in authority noticed the error, if they delivered a supply of pills to her, she thought defiantly, she would pretend. She would cheat. But she would never, under any circumstances, stifle the feelings she had discovered. She would die, Claire realized, before she would give up the love she felt for her son.

Son - Pg 107

   Claire choked back tears as she pedaled her bike back to the Hatchery. More and more she despised her life: the dull routine of the job, the mindless conversation with her coworkers, the endless repetition of her days. She wanted only to be with the child, to feel the warm softness of his nexk as he curled against her, to whisper to him and to sense how he listened happily to her voice. It was not right to have these feelings, which were growing stronger as the weeks passed. Not normal. Not permitted. She knew that. But she did not know how to make them go away.

Son - Pg 107

   She turned away, feeling tears well in her eyes. What on earth was the matter with her? No one else seemed to feel this kind of passionate attachment to other humans. Not to a newchild, not to a spouse, or a coworker, or friend. She had not felt it toward her own parents or brother. But now, toward this wobbly, drooling toddler--

Son - Pg 90

   There had been no surprises in her life, or in anyone's within the community. Just the Assignment Ceremony, at Twelve: the disappointing surprise, then, of being named Birthmother. And later, of course, the shock of her failure.
   But now it was again the dull routine of daily life in the community. The rasping voice through the speaker, making announcements, giving reminders. The rituals and rules. The mealtimes, and the work. Always the work.

Son - Pg 58

   For Claire's entire life, her feelings had been those of--what? She searched in her mind for the right descriptive word. Contentment. Yes, she had always been content. Everyone was, in the community. Their needs were tended to; there was nothing they lacked, nothing they... That was it, Claire realized. She had never yearned for anything before. But now, ever since the day of the birth, she felt a yearning constantly, desperately, to fill the emptiness inside her.
   She wanted her child.

Son - Pg 55

   Claire was fascinated. "What did people do with 'pets'?"
   Dimitri shrugged. "Played with them, I think. And also, pets provided company for lonely people. We don't have those now, of course."
   "Nobody's lonely here," Edith agreed.
   Claire was quiet. She didn't say this, but she was thinking: I am. I am lonely. Even as she thought it, though, she realized she didn't really know what the term meant.

Son - Pg 36

   Briefly she wondered about her parents, whether they ever thought of her--or, for that matter, of Peter. They had raised two children successfully, fulfilling the job of Adults with Spouses.

Son - Pg 30

   Even if it might be against the rules, some kind of infringement... there would be no way for anyone to get caught in the act of wondering, Claire thought. It was an invisible thing, like a secret. She herself spent a great deal of time at it... wondering.