“What were you going to do tonight?" "I was going to listen to the songs of Rachmaninoff." "Who's that?" "A dead Russian.”

“There's nothing decent about what we're going to do tonight. So, let go and show me who you are."~Raphael”

“What are you and Henry going to do tonight anyway?""My secret," I said, and when I walked around to see the look on her face, I rolled my eyes. "Not that. What are you and Xander going to do?""That." She gave me an impish look, and I scowled. "What? I'm dead. It's not like it matters anymore.”

“This is just a little love song I for my wife. Or for everybody who is going to listen now, but I wrote it for my wife.”

“You don't listen do you? Go away." ..."You don't listen," he said.Why wouldn't he just leave? I was going to burn up, anyway, with fire creeping up my arms to consume me. My eyes ached with fresh tears. I hated crying."But if you listened," he murmured, "I'd be dead.”

“There's an old Russian saying that goes some way or another. I don't know it. I don't speak Russian. But sometimes I think about it and wonder if it's relevant to what I'm going through at the time. Probably not. I mean what do Russian know about hunger, anyway?”