“He fills my thoughts, my dreams, and my nightmares. The memory of him, and his touch, pound on the door to my soul with such force that cracks are forming in the wood. I do my best to act like no one is home by keeping the door locked and the lights off.”

“I froze like a startled bunny. Fumbling the disk into my purse, I cut my eyes toward the hallway. Had I locked the front door? Of course I had. Only a moron would break into someone’s house and forget to lock the door. Damn it! I’d forgotten to lock the door.”

“And above all, you must be asking which door is the true one; not which pleases you best by its paint and panelling…the question should never be: ‘Do I like that kind of service?’ but ‘Are these doctrines true: Is holiness there? Does my conscience move me towards this? Is my reluctance to move to this door due to my pride, or my mere taste, or my personal dislike for this particular door-keeper?”

“but i've slammed the door to my inner self; if he ever wants to force the lock again, he'll have to use a harder crowbar!”

“What's the hurry?" he said"This door is locked," Tully told him."So?""Can you pick a lock?""I'll give it a try.""Be my guest" Tully said, stepping to one side.Pap blew the lock away with the shotgun. He pushed the door open with the barrel.”

“There's a tap on the door then. We all exchange looks, Tommy Falk's as uncertain as the rest of ours. No one moves, so I finally wipe my hands off on my pants, go to the door, and open it a crack. Sean stands on the other side, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other holding a loaf of bread. I wasn't prepared for it to be Sean, so my stomach does a neat little trick that feels like either hunger or escaping.”