The factory crawler lay ahead of them. Crescent dune tracks spread shadow ripples toward the horizon and, running though them as a level line, came an elongated mount-in-motion—a cresting of sand. "Worm," Kynes said.
Growing, growing wings on you Wings that are my web I will watch and wait for you For the perfect time to pounce Your wings they are my spider's web When you think you are flying What you feel is merely my grip
"I still believe in paradise. But now at least I know it's not some place you can look for, 'cause it's not where you go. It's how you feel for a moment in your life when you're a part of something, and if you find that moment… it lasts forever…"