“While they argued, the pain blazed on. My blood boiled in my veins. Why was I doing this? Was he worth all of this pain? Why should I care if he lived or died?"I love him." The words came out as a whisper, but they seemed to diminish the heat. I felt stronger and more sure of myself.”

“I wanted you to feel the rage boil in my blood when I found out you were going on a date...with him tonight," he cursed the word, "after being with me last night. I wanted you to feel the same pain I did. The goddamn same debilitating pain.”

“I knew that my brother would still be a part of this world no matter what happened next. I felt my love for him so deeply that my blood seemed to flow down the street to him. My blood sang out my prayer for Luis even while he was still living in our world.”

“I don't need more pain in my life. Why did I invite it in? Do I have to feel pain to believe I feel anything at all?”

“I care nothing in comparison with papa. And I'll never -- never--oh, never while I have my senses, do an act or say a word to vex him. I love him better than myself, Ellen; and I know it by this: I pray every night that I may live after him; because I would rather be miserable than that he should be: that proves I love him better than myself.”

“I can't tell you why God made you the way you are any more than I can tell you why he's planted a carcinoma in my stomach to make me die painfully while other men die peacefully in their sleep. The cogs of creation seem to slip all the time. Babies are born with two heads, mothers of families run crazy with carving knives, men die in plague, famine and thunderstorms. Why? Only God knows.”