“I pressed my head into the pillow and I screamed. Pure sound. No words. But it all came out as your name.”

“But instead of tears, when I press my face against the pillow, a horrible, primal scream comes out of me. It's unlike anything I thought myself capable of. Rage, unlike anything I've ever known.”

“You can scream, angel. I love the sound of my name coming from your lips, especially while I’m occupied with these ones.”

“Whenever a new scholar came to out school, I used to confront him at recess with the following words: 'My name's Tom Bailey: what's your name?' If the name struck me favorably, I shook hands with the new pupil cordially; but if it didn't I would turn on my heel, for I was particular in this point. Such names as Higgins, Wiggins, and Spriggins were deadly afronts to my ear; while Lapgdon, Wallace, Blake, and the like, were passing words to my confidence and esteem.”

“- "Control what an interesting word for you to be dwelling on"- "I have other words" I scream the F-Word in my head, over and over again.”

“I wanted to scream with the pain, scream with the feeling of death pressing so close but I clenched my teeth together, grinding then until my head pounded and forced my trembling legs to stand. I had always been stubborn, wilful and no power on earth could change that.”