“I’m here for the show” the man saidlooking under Frank’s shirt for the door“I’m no theater” Frank saida line formedmust he admit them all?many had umbrellasa blind womanwaited withher dog“it’s gonna be a great show” someone said“but when’s he gonna let us in?”Frank’s tears began to fallsomeone ripped his doors openthey filled him for an hour”

“You know the way Jesus rips open his shirt to show us his heart, all flaming and thorny, the way he points to it. I’m afraid the way I’ll miss you will be this obvious.”

“The master of this shop was sitting at the door in his shirt-sleeves, smoking; and as there were a great many coats and pairs of trousers dangling from the low ceiling, and only two feeble candles burning inside to show what they were, I fancied that he looked like a man of a revengeful disposition, who had hung all his enemies, and was enjoying himself.”

“If you fuck this up, I’m gonna have to kill you,” Rory swore, leaning in to kiss him. “I’m not gonna fuck this up,” he promised as he met her lips in a hungry kiss.“Good.”

“I’m gonna sit here in my place on the hill behind the house. Waiting. And watching.And nothing moving down there.The valley look pretty bare in the snow. Just the house, gray and lonely down by the river all frozen. I got to think what I’m gonna do now that everyone gone.But I got my dog head on.The dog gonna tell me what to do. The dog gonna help me.The house look proper empty – don’t it, dog?”

“The Creators,” Minho said; then he spat on the floor. “I’m gonna break your faces!”