“...it isn’t other people who decide if you feel alone, it’s yourself. Only I didn’t know that yet.”

“It would have been only fair to tell him so. To explain, right now, that she was the bloody Titanic whose wake would carry him under, if he didn’t jump into the lifeboat and head for the open sea.Instead, he leaned over to kiss her.She waited. Hesitated. Then withdrew her head before their lips could touch. For a split second he looked offended, but then he smiled, blinked at the sun, and said, “Well, when it gets to that point, I want to be there.”“When what gets to what point?”“When you’re not looking at everyone else as if they’d just declared war on you. And when you realize”—he pointed across the ravine—“that things may look like the end of the world but the world still goes on, over there on the other side. Maybe just one really large step would cross it.”

“If they [won], it would only be because they didn't forget what they were. Who they were. And that it was worth it to fight just for that.”

“Other girls carried tasers or pepper spray for safety. Rosa had bought herself a stapler in a hardware store on the corner of Baltic and Clinton Streets. Her thinking was simple. An electric shock is nasty but leaves no marks. With her method, though, she could put two or three staples into any attacker’s body. Then he’d have to stop and decide whether to tangle with her or start getting the staples out of his skin.”

“One day," she said, "I'll catch dreams like butterflies.""And then what?" he asked."Then I'll put them between the pages of big, fat books and press them until they're words.""Suppose there's someone who never dreams of anything but you?""Maybe then we're both words in a book. Two names among all the others.”

“Ahead of them lay an expressway access road. Except that there were no guardrails or markings. No road signs either. And no other vehicles at all. Yet the road, following a narrow curve, led to a broad ribbon of asphalt tracing a straight line all the way to the horizon. Again, it had no lines painted on it and there were no signs. Rosa thought there would have been space for four traffic lanes on it, but it was covered with the dust and loose soil that had blown over it.No other sign of life. Just the two of them, the car, and a forgotten road to nowhere.“Where does it go?”“To the end of the world.”

“For the images of the gods are much easier to misuse for human purposes than the gods themselves. Images have no will and no desires. Statues stand for nothing but the goals of the rulers. … The word of a god is, in truth, only the word of the one who erected his statue.”