“You were a well-respected agent, Michael, a rags-to-riches fairytale ending. Until you became disgraced. Now it appears your own organization wishes to be rid of you. Why is this?”“My gun turned back into a pumpkin.”

“An' you turn your back on your friend, you may as well go ahead an' join the asshole squad, 'cause you just became one more reason why the damn world's gone to hell.”

“You were merely wishing for the end of pain, the monster said. Your own pain. An end to how it isolated you. It is the most human wish of all.”

“Sometimes if you want to get rid of the gun, you have to pick the gun up.”

“You think it hurts your feelings that girls talk about you behind your back, until they tell you to your face. And they each wanted a turn. Every time, it started with 'girlfriend' and ended with 'bitch.”

“You and I, we must carry on, Gemma. I cannot afford the luxury of love. I must marry well. And now I must look after you. It is my duty.""If you wish to suffer, you do so of your own free will, not on my behalf. Or Father's or Grandmama's or anyone's. You are a fine physician, Thomas. Why is that not enough?""Because it isn't," he says with a rare candor. "Only this and the hope of nothing more? A quiet respectability with no true greatness or heroism in it, with only my reputation to recommend me. So you see, Gemma, you are not the only one who cannot rule her own life.”