“I ran into the house, crumpled the pack of cigarettes and cried to myself. I cried for Ricky. I cried because I felt like such a coward.”

“I am crying, he thought, opening his eyes to stare through the soapy, stinging water. I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater. But he wasn't crying. Curiously, he felt too depressed to cry. Too hurt. It felt as if she'd taken the part of him that cried.”

“I wasn't crying for myself. I was crying for the innocents.”

“I started to cry then, and I cried for a long time without making much noise. I cried and cried like a little kid.”

“I cried in English, I cried in french, I cried in all the languages, because tears are the same all around the world.”

“I haven't cried since Mom died. I mean, after something like that, what's left to cry about, right? But I let myself cry now. Loss is loss. Doesn't take death to create it. (266)”