But There's A Whole World Waiting, Still,

Keep A Green Tree In Your Heart And Perhaps The Singing Bird Will Come.

It Was Almost December, And Jonas Was Beginning To Be Frightened.

The Writer After All Is Only Half The Book, The Other Half Is The Reader.

"i Liked The Feeling Of Love," [jonas] Confessed. He Glanced Nervously At The Speaker On The Wall, Reassuring Himself That No One Was Listening. "i Wish We Still Had That," He Whispered. "of Course," He Added Quickly, "i Do Understand That It Wouldn't Work Very Well. And That It's Much Better To Be Organized The Way We Are Now. I Can See That It Was A Dangerous Way To Live." [...] "still," He Said Slowly, Almost To Himself, "i Did Like The Light They Made. And The Warmth."

So Actually, There Could Be Parents-of-the-parents-of-the-parents-of-the Parents?