“He pressed himself into me and kissed my neck, and it was as if everything strong and solid inside me, heart and bones and muscle and gut, softened and melted from the heat of him.”

“She was his soulmate, as much a part of him as the very flesh and bone that made him. She was with him, in him, in everything he did. She was everything he wanted from his life, the very measure of his dreams.”

“The rain comes down harder as I write. It sheets off the roof in torrents. I wish it would pound against me. Pound the life from my body. The flesh from my bones. The pain from my heart.”

“The guitar's still around me. I slip it off and put it down. I want to feel him. To feel his breath on my neck. The warmth of his skin. To feel something other than sadness.Hold me, I tell him silently. Hold me here. To this place. This life. Make me want you. Want this. Want something. Please”

“Because I'm on the phone, Mom!""Fooling around with your friends again! Who is that?""Ahmadinejad.""Oh, my goodness! What is he saying?""That he wants to see Jeezy at the Beacon tonight. Putin's going too. He scalped a ticket from Kim Jong Il. All tha gangstas are going.""Don't be so fresh, young man!""Gotta go," he says to me. "Enemy forces have dropped a Momshell.""Fall back, solider. Over and out.”

“There were nights when I got nothing, [but] I still played. With no one to hear me and no one to pay me, and it did not matter.On those nights, the words were for me alone. They came up unbidden from my heart. They slipped over my tongue and spilled from my mouth. And because of them I, who was nothing and nobody, was a prince of Denmark, a maid of Verona, a queen of Egypt. I was a sour misanthrope, a beetling hypocrite, a conjurer's daughter, a mad and murderous king.It was dark and it was cold on those nights. The world was harsh and I was hungry. Yet I had such joy from the words. Such joy.There were times when I lifted my face to the sky, stretched my arms wide to the winter night, and laughed out loud, so happy was I.The memory of it makes me laugh now, but not from happiness.Be careful what you show the world.You never know when the wolf is watching.”

“Because in a small dark room, a broken child lies on a filthy bed and stares up at a high window. He waits for me, too.And I—I who have failed at everything and have failed everyone—I must not, I cannot, I will not fail him.”