The rules of this house are written in water. I must either sink or swim.

The turnip cannot thrive in the tulips patch of soil.

I feel younger than eighteen but burdened as a eighty-year-old.

The night darkens, the stars unfriendly, the cold a knife upon her neck - but Nella waits, until she can no longer difference between Johannes and the darkness that carries him away.

What was once, is no longer.

There are horizons through the brickwork, you wait and see.

We're nothing more than prisoners to your desire.

Words are water in this city. One drop of rumour could drown us.

Because, Petronella - it's something in his soul. It's something in his soul and you can't get it out.