“I was aware of the treacherous air vents above us, conducting the sounds we were making upstairs. Maybe dad was listening. Or maybe, just like Kevin, he was unaware of anything but the pleasure spurting up out of his body and into mine.”

“For a while we talked about things I've forgotten now. Or maybe we were silent for a while, me sitting at the foot of his bed, him stretched out with his book, the two of us sneaking looks at each other, listening to the sound the elevator made, as if we were in a dark room or lost in the country at night, just listening to the sound of horses.”

“Maybe it’s our bodies’ way of telling us we were meant to be. Or maybe I, like, cuddle raped him or something.”

“Kevin: 'Hey, Dad. How do you stop people from being stupid?'Dad: 'You don't.'Kevin: 'Really?'Dad: 'I've tried to explain to people when they're being stupid, but then I realized something: Most people like being stupid.'Kevin: 'I don't get it.'Dad: 'Some people just prefer it. It makes their lives easier if they let other people think for them.'Kevin: 'But that doesn't make sense. That's just stu...Oh...”

“Maybe that's what praying is all about. Maybe it's not just asking God to forgive us for bad things or asking Him for good things. Maybe it's just the act of praying and feeling that there's someone up there listening that makes us feel better and less helpless.”

“Sorry," I said. There was little healing power in the word, but maybe the Inspectre wasn't looking to heal. Maybe he didn't want someone to fix it. It had been broken too long for me to think anything I said would actually help. It was like trying to put a Band-Aid on a shark bite. Sometimes people just needed to vent and get it out of their system.”