“But nothing lasts forever. This city is changing for the worse. Sure it's getting bigger and it looks nicer, but the novelties are disappearing. The culture is fading. This isn't progress, kid. It's neighborhood genocide. You think about that.”

“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.”

“Nothing can last forever. There isn't any memory, no matter how intense, that doesn't fade out at last.”

“Hey, Nana...people's feelings change easily...what you see is a house of cards...nothing's sure, and nothing lasts forever.”

“All is as if the world did cease to exist. The city's monuments go unseen, its past unheard, and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.”

“I guess the most amazing thing about crying though is that when you're in it, you think it'll go on forever but it never really lasts half what you think. Not in terms of real time. In terms of real emotions, it's worse than you think, but not by the clock.”