“I’d planned to kill them, too.” When Néomi glared up at him, he raised his chained hands.“Past tense. See? Already I’m improving.”

“If I’d found out that Norman Mailer liked me, I’d have killed myself. I think he was too hung up. I’m glad Kurt Vonnegut didn’t like me either. He had problems, terrible problems. He couldn’t see the world the way I see it. I suppose I’m too much Pollyanna, he was too much Cassandra. Actually I prefer to see myself as the Janus, the two-faced god who is half Pollyanna and half Cassandra, warning of the future and perhaps living too much in the past—a combination of both. But I don’t think I’m too over optimistic.”

“Sed’s heart sank to his toes. Too late for that. He was already on the boat. Was Jessica planning to kill him and then dump his body overboard before sailing off into the sunset with his drummer and bassist?”

“[...] I’ll fucking kill them all. Every single one of them.” Corrado’s voice rang out beside them. “Too late. They’re all already dead.” Carmine glared at his uncle. “Well, we’ll bring those motherfuckers back to life then.”

“God surpasses our dreams when we reach past our personal plans and agenda to grab the hand of Christ and walk the path he chose for us.  He is obligated to keep us dissatisfied until we come to him and his plan for complete satisfaction.”

“Yours was the hand that threw him. You meant for him to die.”His chains chinked softly. “I seldom fling children from towers to improve their health. Yes, I meant for him to die.”