“I used to have pink hair," I told Seven."I used to have a real job," he answered."What happened?"He shrugged. "I dyed my hair pink. What happened to you?”

“He knew her now. She was the weird girl in the class above him, who dyed her hair pink and always wore a lot of pentragrams and crystals. Right now she was also wearing giant chandelier earings and a violent pink T-Shirt that bore the words ROMEO AND JULIET WOULDN'T HAVE LASTED.”

“i open my eyes and blow a straggle of hair out of my face. Not my hair, smitty's. his head is buried in the crook of my neck and he's out cold. he uses raspberry shampoo? what a big girl.”

“Life had given me another sucker punch. I should have been used to it. I should have already known what was happening and what would happen. How it felt to be in the dark hole that was death.”

“I used to have straw-colored hair. Horses loved it.”

“I suppose it's possible that the Sundance Kid didn't like to make much of his birthdays — they may have struck him as just another reminder that his draw was getting slower by the year—but what if he truly liked a major celebration? What if he looked forward every year to marking the day of his birth with what they used to call in the West 'a real wingding, with pink balloons and a few survivors'?”