“Bogeymen or not, I was in love with Alden Thomas, regardless of what name I went by or what demon wanted me dead.”

“What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes”

“I had no illusions about love anymore. It came, it went, it left casualties or it didn't. People weren't meant to be together forever, regardless of what the songs say.”

“A demon was asking me what I wanted. My eyes flicked to Al, and he shrugged. “What do you want?” he said softly.”

“What is it? I remembered thinking in panic. What is it? Why did I want to follow this man? What was it about the monstrumologist that consumed me? What demon of the pit chewed and gnawed upon my soul like Judas’ in the innermost circle of hell? What did it look like? What was its face? If I could name the nameless thing, if I could put a face upon the faceless thing, perhaps I could free myself from its ravenous embrace.”

“She named me Daisy St. Patience and never wanted to know what name I walked in the door with.”