“There are edges around the black and every now and then a flash of color streaks out of the gray. But I can never really grasp any of the slivers of memories that emerge.”

“Leslie Ann was now modeling a conservative thunderstorm gray business suit/dress with lightning flashes streaking down her legs, and 1G rain splashing her silvery galoshes.”

“I looked around me at the beautiful sunrise and I was thinking, Yes, yes, everything will be beautiful like this now. I will never be afraid again. I will never spend another day trapped in the color gray.”

“I stabbed him,” Flit said weakly, clutching at the tattered remains of Talon’s shirt. “With pens,” Talon agreed. “Is he dead?” Flit’s eyes were huge, the pupils blown black, only a sliver of color showing around the edges. He was probably going into shock.“I don’t think so,” Talon said. “It’s pretty hard to die by pen.”

“I warn't never meant to be a lady, I know that now. I got streaks of wildness in me that trip me up every time, and just like streaks in clothes, there's some dirt that just won't wash out.”

“Maybe she was enjoying a moment in her life, a sliver of light, a flash memory of one of her kids, something sweet and approaching reality.”