“Which doesn't mean, of course, that I'd stopped loving her, that I'd forgotten her, or that her image had paled; on the contrary; in the form of a quiet nostalgia she remained constantly within me; I longed for her as one longs for something definitively lost.”

“She had exposed her hands while she tutored me. Shit. I'd forgotten about her scars. Hell, she'd forgotten about her scars-until now. I wanted that moment back, and to see her smile again. "Then who did? I't's been a while since i've been in a fight. My rep will be ruin if i'm good for too long." She fought it, but i won. The smile returned for a brief dazling moment.”

“Just because she's dead it doesn't mean I stopped loving her or that she stopped loving me. It's just her body that left. The love didn't.—Jenna Richards”

“And now she was found, no longer lost. Like a bag I'd given up for good suddenly reappearing in the middle of the night on my doorstep, packed for a journey I'd long ago forgotten. It was odd, considering I'd gotten accustomed to her being nowhere and anywhere, to finally know where my mother was. An exact location, pinpointed. Like she'd crossed over from my imagination, where I'd created a million different lives for her, back into this one.”

“I fell in love with her for her sense of humour. If she ever lost her sense of humour, I would have to dump her. Then I'd kill myself because I couldn't live without her.”

“But only people you care about can hurt you. That doesn't mean I love her. Hate is not the opposite of love; not caring is. And as long as I hate her, I still care about her, and she has the power to hurt me. To make me hate myself.”