“It was past dark when I reached the city and I’d mostly shoved my ghosts back into their graves. I let the gray mare pick her own pace and browse in the grain fields along the way.”

“Kabul had become a city of ghosts for me. A city of harelipped ghosts. America was different. America was a river, roaring along, unmindful of the past. I could wade into this river, let my sins drown to the bottom, let the waters carry me someplace far. Someplace with no ghosts, no memories, and no sins. ”

“O holy Sunday, let your darkness not come along my way. Let her nurture internal and external world, as I start my personal day.”

“I can't shove the dark out of my way.”

“Graves leaned forward, eyeing me. "Hey, Dru. You were french-kissing a winged snake. creeptastic.""I was stealing her breath, imbecile. go get a towel." christophe shoved him, and graves shoved back.”

“The hole in my heart matches the key I gave her, and I’d like it back, along with the key to my hope chest.”