“You can kill a man with those words.No gun. No bullets. Just words and a girl.”

“She soon says, "You're my best friend, Ed."You can kill a man with those words.No gun.No bullets.Just words and a girl.”

“Journalism is just a gun. It’s only got one bullet in it, but if you aim right, that’s all you need. Aim it right, and you can blow a kneecap off the world.”

“With most people suicide is like Russian roulette. Only one chamber has a bullet. With the Lisbon girls, the gun was loaded. A bullet for family abuse. A bullet for genetic predisposition. A bullet for historical malaise. A bullet for inevitable momentum. The two other bullets are impossible to name, but that doesn't mean the chambers were empty.”

“It’s just… I wish it was easier, for me, you know?” I make a special point not to look at her. “I wish it was someone else who was chosen for this. Someone competent. If only I didn’t stop that robbery. I wish I didn’t have to go through with it all.” It comes gushing out, with words like spilled milk. “And I wish it was me with you and not that other guy. I wish it was my own skin touching with yours…”And there you have it.Stupidity in its purest form.“Oh, Ed.” Audrey looks away. “Oh, Ed.”Our feet dangle.I watch them, and I watch the jeans on Audrey’s legs.We only sit there now.Audrey and me.And discomfort.Squeezed in, between us.She soon says, “You’re my best friend, Ed.”“I know.”You can kill a man with those words.No gun.No bullets.Just words and a girl.”

“Out in the field, any connection with home just makes you weaker. It reminds you that you were once civilized, soft; and that can get you killed faster than a bullet through the head.”