“My chest hurts...It hurts. The sound of his name is like a knife in my heart.”
“My God, you're hurt," Kyle said. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't use his name around me right now. He's kicking my ass." "God?" "No, but his bitch is." "How? It's impossible to hurt ghosts." "Tell that to the smoking crater on my chest.”
“This is my knife. It is very sharp and very eager to hurt you.”
“Hearing him talk about his mother, about his intact family, makes my chest hurt for a second, like someone pierced it with a needle.”
“Sharing his memories felt like handing over a sharp knife. A knife that others might handle carelessly. A knife that could be used to hurt him.”
“How do you punish a man when your heart beats in his chest? How do you hurt your beloved without also hurting yourself?”