“Philip Sharpe was a soldier in God's army," says the minister. "Now he marches with the angels.”

“On the way out to the car, Philip turns to me.“How could you be so stupid?I shrug, stung in spite of myself.“I thought I grew out of it.”Philip pulls out his key fob and presses the remote to unlock his Mercedes. I slide into the passenger side, brushing coffee cups off the seat and onto the floor mat, where crumpled printouts from MapQuest soak up any spilled liquid.“I hope you mean sleepwalking,” Philip says, “since you obviously didn’t grow out of stupid.”

“You are the best kind of killer, Cassel Sharpe, the kind that never has blood on his hands. The kind that never has to sicken at the sight of what he's done, or come to like it too much.”

“You’re a liar, Cassel Sharpe. A lying liar who lies.”

“There's nothing quite as funny as someone else's misery - Cassel Sharpe”

“Farewell, Father," she said. He fell back upon his chair, choking. She laughed, not with mirth or even mockery, but something that was closer to a sob. "You crafted me so sharp, I cut even myself.”

“Okay. how about that time when you smoked all that weed that you thought was laced with something? You fell into the tub, but you refused to get out because you were convinced that the back of your head was going to fall off?"That third story happened to a guy named Jace in my dorm. Me and Sam and another guy in our hall took turns reading "Paradise Lost" through the locked door. I think it made him more paranoid, though." "That's not true," he says. "Well, he *seemed* more paranoid to me," I say. "And he still gets a little weired out when any one mentions angels.”