“I'm the Bonesaw Killer's daughter," she whispered, almost to herself. "Why would you ever think I was good?”

“You are good," I say. "No I'm not. I'm not I'm not. I'm not," she says. "I'm no good." And then, softly to herself: "Am I?”

“He said he loved me,” she whispered.Daniel swallowed, and he had the strangest sensation, almost a premonition of what it must like to be a parent.Someday, God willing, he’d have a daughter, and that daughter would look like the woman standing in front of him, and if ever she looked at him with that bewildered expression, whispering, “He said he loved me . . .”Nothing short of murder would be an acceptable response.”

“The Nevernever," she murmured, almost to herself, "I'm in the Nevernever. I'm in freaking faeryland.”

“She told herself a story about a daughter in a family so hungry for a daughter that it would have eaten her alive if she hadn't run away.”

“Why did I ever think I would get enough of you?”