“It’s so sick,” Duck said. “I nicked myself shaving that last night at home, and I saw my own blood and I thought, How could I live in a world where this exists—where love can become death? Even if the doctor says we’re okay, how could we go on watching people die?” Duck buried his face against Dirk’s shoulder and the streetlamp light shone in through the window, lighting up Duck’s hair. Dirk stroked Duck’s head. “I don’t know. But we’ve got to be together,” he said.”

“I saw my own blood and I thought, how could I live in a world where this exists- where love can become death?”

“I still can’t talk about it,” he said“Duck.” Dirk touched his cheek“I remember, later, my mom trying to run into the water and I’m trying to hold her back and her hair and my tears are so bright that I’m blind. I knew she would have walked right into the ocean after him and kept going. In a way I wanted to go too.”

“I will be thin and pure like a glass cup. Empty. Pure as light. Music. I move my hands over my body - my shoulders, my collarbone, my rib cage, my hip bones like part of an animal skull, my small thighs. In the mirror my face is pale and my eyes look bruised. My hair is pale and thin and the light comes through. I could be a lot younger than seventeen. I could be a child still, untouched.”

“Dirk, this is Peace, Granola, Crystal, Chi, Aura, Tahini, and the twins, Yin and Yang," Duck said...."They had all of us one right after the other. Me while they were into the total surf scene when they lived in Malibu, Peace and Granola during their hippie-rebel phase, and then they got more into Eastern philosophy-you know, the twins Yin and Yang.”

“Okay. I wish for world peace,” Weetzie said. “I am sorry,” the genie said. “I cant grant that wish. Its out of my league.” “Then I wish for an infinite number of wishes!” Those people on fairy tales never thought of that. “People in fairy tales wish for that all the time,” the genie said. “They arent stupid. It just isnt in the records because I cant grant that type of wish.”

“When Cherokee and Raphael got back to the canyon house, they set up the tepee on the grass and crept inside it. They lay on their backs, not touching, looking at the leaf shadows flickering on their canvas, and trying to identify the flowers they smelled in the warm air. "Honeysuckle." "Orange blossom." "Rose." "The Sea.""The Sea! That doesn't count!""I smell it like it's growing in the yard."They giggled the way they used to when they were very young. Then they were quiet. Raphael sat up and took Cherokee's feet in her hands. "Do they still hurt?" he asked, stroking them tenderly. He moved his hands up over her whole body, as if he were painting her, bringing color into her white skin. As if he were playing her-his guitar. And all the hurt seemed to float out of her like music. They woke in the morning curled together. "Remember how when we were really little we used to have the same dreams?" Cherokee whispered. "It was like going on trips together.""It stopped when we started making love." "I know." "But last night...""Orchards of hawks and apricots," Raphael said, remembering. "Sheer pink-and-gold cliffs.""The sky's wings.""The night beasts run beside us, not afraid. Dream horses carry us...""To the sea," they said together...”