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

“So basically your plan is to flail about helplessly.”

“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.”

“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.”

“You can only be strong for so long.”

“Esperanza's side had so many colors, Crayola sent a scout.”

“Sure, on a larger scale, it was healthy to have people out there you cared about more than yourself. She knew that. But then there was the abject fear you would lose it. They say possessions own you. Not so. Loved ones own you. You are forever held hostage once you care so much.”