“Kids don’t do what their parents say-they do what they see their parents do. So who was to blame here?”

“God, she loved this kid. Wendy had one of those waves, the ones that sneak up on parents and crush them and make them just want to wrap their arms around their kid and never let him go.”

“It's not the dead even. They're gone. Nothing you can do about that. It's what's left behind - the echo. These woods you're walking through. There are some old timers who think a sound echoes here forever. Makes sense when you think about it. That Billingham kid. I'm sure he screamed. He screams, it echoes, just bounces back and forth, the sound getting smaller and smaller, but never entirely disappearing. Like a part of his is still calling out, even now.”

“For a short time, I hated them. But when you think about it, what good does that do?It takes so much to hold on to hate—you lose your grip on what's important, you know?”

“No, I don’t live in heartache. I don’t cry myself to sleep or any of that. I am, I tell myself, over it. But I do feel a void, icky as that sounds. And—like it or not—I still think about her every single day.”

“You live in world, you collide with others. That's the way it is. We collide and sometimes someone gets hurt. They just wanted to steal a silly pair of boxers. It went wrong. For a short time, I hated them. But when you think about it, what good does that do? It takes so much hold on to hate - you lose your grip on what's important, you know?”

“Myron reached for the phone and dialed Win's number. After the eighth ring he began to hang up when a weak, distant voice coughed. "Hello?"Win?"Yeah."You okay?"Hello?"Win?"Yeah."What took you so long to answer the phone?"Hello?"Win?"Who is this?"Myron."Myron Bolitar?"How many other Myrons do you know?"Myron Bolitar?"No, Myron Rockefeller."Something's wrong," Win said.What?"Terribly wrong."What are you talking about?"Some asshole is calling me at seven in the morning pretending to be my best friend."Sorry, I forgot the time.”