“He had plans all right, he thought as Sarah trotted off. To eat crow.He wasn't sure what it tasted like, but he already knew he wasn't going to enjoy it. He walked around to the office, knocked. He supposed if he'd been wearing a hat,he'd have held it in his hands.”

“Gates got up, but not fast or jerkily, with the same slowness that had always characterized him. He wiped the sweat off his palms by running them lightly down his sides. As though he were going to shake hands with somebody.He was. He was going to shake hands with death.He wasn't particularly frightened. Not that he was particularly brave. It was just that he didn't have very much imagination. Rationalizing, he knew that he wasn't going to be alive anymore ten minutes from now. Yet he wasn't used to casting his imagination ten minutes ahead of him, he'd always kept it by him in the present. He couldn't visualize it. So he wasn't as unnerved by it as the average man would have been.("3 Kills For 1")”

“He glanced down at the blood-smeared cut on his side...and realized he wasn't wearing any clothing. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't realized it already. Kind of obvious. It wasn't like he'd been going to take time out to find his clothing before stopping Liam.”

“I knew I should have call Jack, should have told him...but I didn't. Not yet. I was afraid of him thinking that I was crazy, too. I wasn't sure what he'd do if he saw me drowning. I wasn't sure he'd save me unless he was saving himself. what he'd say.”

“I dipped into his brain. He wasn't happy that I wasn't wearing a bra, because my boobs distracted him. He was thinking I was a bit too curvy for his taste. He was thinking he'd better not think about me that way anymore. He was missing his wife.”

“A cold blast hit him and he laughed at the sting as he stepped outside, surveyed the night sky, and drank deeply.Such a good liar he was. Such a good one.Everyone thought he was fine because he'd camo'd his little problems. He wore a Sox hat to hide the eye twitch. Set his wristwatch to go off every half hour to beat back the dream. Ate though he wasn't angry. Laughed though he found nothing funny.And he'd always smoked like a chimney.”