“He'd always known that shit rolled downhill, but he never knew tears did the same thing.”

“Okay, basics. The three S’s: shower, shit, and shave—every man could do that in his sleep. So he did. He managed his complete morning routine in a mental and emotional coma.”

“God. No wonder it was so easy. He’s been bleeding since he was a baby. He just never told anyone. How do you even know it hurts after all that time?” Because you loved me, and I knew what it meant to feel.”

“I’ve loved him since I’ve known him, Mrs. Daniels. He just finally stopped fighting.”

“Kindness is not weakness, Malcolm. Forgiveness isn’t lack of backbone. Forgiveness is the thing that lets human beings not strangle each other after a half an hour’s acquaintance. It’s not something you in particular should shit on, you know?”

“It doesn’t matter anyway!” Patrick couldn’t sit down. He couldn’t. “It’s not like sex is anything to shout about! It’s icky, and the guy never wants to wear a condom, and I have to give a frickin’ health and safety lesson every time I give a blow job because they think I’m stupid, and I know you can get shit from giving head, and I’m not putting that thing in my mouth unless I get a written fucking guarantee that it’s not going to drop off or explode or give me some life-threatening disease or mutant antibiotic-resistant gonorrhea!”

“Chase was gone then, and Donnie was back, alone in his room, wondering about those pictures from an art book he'd so admired. Because it felt like he'd just lived one, and it had been beautiful, so beautiful, and he'd been able to reach out and touch the lines of it, but it still hurt.”