“I have a meanness inside me, real as an organ. Slit me at my belly and it might slide out, meaty and dark, drop on the floor so you could stomp on it.”

“I have a meanness inside of me, real as an organ.”

“I have been asked what I mean by “word of honor.” I will tell you. Place me behind prison walls—walls of stone ever so high, ever so thick, reaching ever so far into the ground—there is a possibility that in some way or another I might be able to escape; but stand me on the floor and draw a chalk line around me and have me give my word of honor never to cross it. Can I get out of that circle? No, never! I’d die first.”

“Save it fucker. I'm gonna slit you open and gut you like a fish and pull out your insides. I'm going to show you the black stuff inside your belly, and then I'm gonna make you eat it.”

“None of you appreciate me. Why is it so hard to believe that I could make a real contribution in these dark rimes?”

“I could have kissed you months ago, but it wouldn’t have meant anything. I wished for you to see me. And want me. So…did you mean it?”“Yes,” I said, and some unnamed tension inside me eased. “I see you, Tod.”