“Oh, I'm not afraid of death! What have I got to live for after all? I suppose you believe it's very wrong to kill a person who has injured you-even if they've taken away everything you had in the world?”

“It was all very well to pretend you were not afraid of death, Bea thought, but people only said that because they had not looked death in the eye. They had not understood that it meant everything you have always taken for granted and loved without even knowing it-the world around you, the memories you carry with you, your hopes for the future- all of this being extinguished like a candle flame that is blown out. And afterwards, there would be nothing. Not even emptiness. Not even loneliness. Not even pain.”

“Sometimes I'm afraid I've got it all wrong...and then I know I do...and then I feel small like I'm supposed to.”

“What is it with you women?" he yelled, kicking at the air. "You come into our lives, you take everythin'! Throughout the years you got little pieces of me, of my very SOUL, and NOW? Now you got my damn straight razor! How am I supposed to kill people? How am I supposed to even SHAVE?”

“I'm not afraid to say "I Love You". I'm afraid to sat it to the wrong person.”

“Who's the best person you know. Of all the people you know personally, is there anyone who has a sense of right and wrong and lives by it? This was a sticky question because it would have to be Ranger ...but I suspected he occasionally killed people. Only bad people, of course, but still...”