Sometimes grace is a ribbon of mountain air that gets in through the cracks.

opened the door a crack wide enough for the entire world to pass through .

If you can find an opening, you can probably find a way to float through it.

Natasha has just come up to the window from the courtyard and opened it wider so that the air may enter more freely into my room. I can see the bright green strip of grass beneath the wall, and the clear blue sky above the wall, and sunlight everywhere. Life is beautiful. Let the future generations cleanse it of all evil, oppression and violence, and enjoy it to the full.

Today I felt pass over me / A breath of wind from the wings of madness.

Stop the words now. Open the window in the center of your chest, and let the spirits fly in and out.

The gates made of light
swing open. You see in.

A motor-car cuts a swathe through the bright air, sharp-beaked, irresistible, shouting to the wind to make way.

Problem is (follow me closely here, the science is pretty complicated), if I cut a hole in the Hab, the air won't stay inside anymore.

I feel like someone breathed new air into my lungs. I am not Abnegation. I am not Dauntless.
I am Divergent.

There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.

There is a crack, a crack, in everything. That's how the light gets in.

Something among dusty shelves of ordered certitudes long divorced from reality, desiccating peacefully, as if a breath of that air which sees injustice done

I let wine breathe. And I hold my breathe, so it can get all the air.