“The fly was on my desk, his hose in the candy dust. I cupped my hand and covered him, then brushed him past the edge to see where he’d go. He returned to the dust, as if I hadn’t just demonstrated that I could kill him, as if I hadn’t just shown him right there in the dust.”

“Cause I lit him on fire,” I shrugged and brushed dust from my pants.”

“Is Dust immortal then, I ask'd him, so that we may see it blowing through the Centuries? But as Walter gave no Answer I jested with him further to break his Melancholy humour: What is Dust, Master Pyne?And he reflected a little: It is particles of Matter, no doubt.Then we are all Dust indeed, are we not?And in a feigned Voice he murmered, For Dust thou art and shalt to Dust return. Then he made a Sour face, but only yo laugh the more.”

“I wanted to scream at him, but then I just felt sad again. He obviously hadn’t cared enough about me to truly let me into his life at all. He’d kept so much from me, and I kind of hated him for that.”

“I think he’s dead,” Caeden said. “No,” I shook my head. Caeden continued like I hadn’t said anything. “And when I get my hands on Travis I’m going to make him suffer through every unimaginable thing before I kill him. And when I kill him I’m going to make sure he begs for mercy. He hurt you and if he’s hurt or killed another member of my pack, none of you will be able to stop me.”

“One day when I went to see him (Picasso), we were looking at the dust dancing in a ray of sunlight that slanted in through one of the high windows. He said to me, 'Nobody has any real importance to me. As far as I'm concerned, other people are like those little grains of dust floating in the sunlight. It takes only a push of the broom and out they go.'I told him I had often noticed in his dealings with others that he considered the rest of the world only little grains of dust. But I said, as it happened, I was a little grain of dust gifted with autonomous movement and who didn't therefore need a broom. I could go out by myself.”