“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.”

“An hour before his world exploded like a ripe tomato under a stiletto heel, Myron bit into a fresh pastry that tasted suspiciously like urinal cake.”

“Myron lay sprawled next to a knee-knockingly gorgeous brunette clad only in a Class-B-felony bikini, a tropical drink sans umbrella in one hand, the aqua clear Caribbean water lapping at his feet, the sand a dazzling white powder, the sky a pure blue that could only be God's blank canvas, the sun a soothing and rich as a Swedish masseur with a snifter of cognac, and he was intensely miserable.”

“As they climbed into their saddles, Myron bowed his head and muttered a soft prayer.“There,” Hadrian told Royce, “we’ve got Maribor on our side. Now you can relax.”“Actually,” Myron said sheepishly, “I was praying for the horses. But I will pray for you as well,” he added hastily.”

“So basically, that entire theory is blown to hell."Not basically," Win corrected. "Entirely.”

“Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Slaying a villain in the service of your king is the stuff of legends and what heroes are made of." [Fanen told Myron]"It didn't feel very heroic. It made me sick. I don't even know why I... no, that's a lie. I really have to stop doing that." [Myron said]"Doing what?""Lying. (...) It's evidence of self loathing. You see, when you are so ashamed of your actions, thoughts, or intentions, you lie to hide it rather than accept yourself for who you really are. The idea of how others see you becomes more important than the reality of you. "It's like when a man would rather die than be thought of a coward. His life is not as important to him as his reputation. In the end, who is the braver? The man who dies rather than be thought of as a coward or the man who lives willing to face who he really is?" [Myron finished]"I'm sorry, you lost me there" Fanen said with a quizzical look.”

“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?”