“How did it die?" he asked."Short circuit," I said. "Old and frayed wires."He looked at me like I was senile."Could have been disease. Violence. Or, sometimes, things die because we don't love them enough.”

“To break the silence the old man said the first thing that came to his mind: "Loneliness is a type of violence.”

“How could you love something so destructive?" I ask."Because this wolf doesn't care if your heart is whole or not," you say. "It tastes just the same.”

“I don't think my moped could outrun a cheetah.""Hun," Claire says. "There are more important things you need to outrun, and a moped isn't going to help you with any of those.”

“The impulse to tell the truth was not as great as the fear of being left off the page.”

“I said, 'I need to know how he died.'He flipped back and pointed at, 'Why?'So I can stop inventing how he died. I'm always inventing.”

“...Sometimes one just had to forge on and let the chips fall where they may. After all, we were the ones in the trenches, investing our will, hearts, sweat, and money while the critics spent nothing but words.”