“Have an apple. It’s bruised. I beat the hell out of it.”

“I have a fear of palindromes. Maybe because the only person to ever beat the hell out of me was a man named Bob.”

“I hate to say it, but shit really does happen. You just have to get over it. Beat the hell out of it by doing things that make you happy.”

“And, Jesus, she's a good kisser. So good I want to beat the hell out of whoever taught her.”

“I’m done,” Bryce said, blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. “My bruises have bruises and those are quickly forming more bruises.”

“I’ll tell you now. That silence almost beat me. It’s the silence that scares me. It’s the blank page on which I can write my own fears. The spirits of the dead have nothing on it. The dead one tried to show me hell, but it was a pale imitation of the horror I can paint on the darkness in a quiet moment.”