“To see was terrifying, and to stop seeing tore me apart from my forehead to my throat.”

“See that's where it falls apart for me!" Anne cried. "What sticks in my throat is that God gets the credit but never the blame. I just can't swallow that kind of theological candy. Either God's in charge or he's not...”

“I feel like everyone who sees me knows what I am. As if it is written on my forehead in bold black ink. Perhaps it is written on my soul, now, and they can see it in my eyes, those windows to my soul.”

“My leg hurts, I wonder if it's cancer? There's a bump. I'm starting to sweat. Stop sweating. I've got to stop sweating.Can she see it dripping down my forehead? She looked at my hair line. She thinks I'm bald.”

“The tearing of the clothes haunted me in the beginning. The infected tore flesh and the others tore clothes and the sound could swallow you up.Now I see the greenery and listen to the sounds of the forest, and know I am safe. The forest is my friend. It was a tense relationship in the beginning, but it has earned my trust over time.”

“You won," Four mutters. "Stop." I wipe the sweat from my forehead. He stares at me. His eyes are too wide; they look alarmed.”