“The stone had been rolled away... That fact alone demands a response.”

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but if you want to hurt someone...way down deep, use words.”

“I had this dream that my life was a rolling canvas. Everyday it rolled off the sheet, bleached white, into the beach of my life. Come sunup, I'd begin to paint it with my thoughts and actions. My breathing, my living, and my dying. Some days the pictures pleased me, maybe pleased others, pleased God himself, but some days, some months, even some years, they didn't, and I didn't ever want to look at them again. But the thing is this . . . every day, no matter what I'd painted the day before, I got a new canvas, washed white. 'Cause each night the tide rolled in, scrubbed it clean, and receded, taking it's stains with it. And my dreams . . . I just stood on the beach and watched all that stuff wash out to sea.- Nothing more than ripples in the water. No canvas is ever stained clean through. Not one.”

“I'm not leaving you. Not going it alone. Not looking at the memory of you everytime I close my eyes.”

“When you laugh...I want to smile. And when you cry...' She brushed the tears off of my face. 'I want the tears to roll down my cheeks.' She shook her head once, whispering, 'I'm not leaving you...won't.”

“...but maybe life is like that - you never know when something that's been hidden is going to rise up and bite you, or glow with a golden hue.”

“He traced a line in the dirt with his toe. ‘This is a battlefield. Has been since Cain killed Abel. And don’t let it get complicated. Gray it ain’t. It’s black and white. Good versus evil. You might as well choose sides right now.”