“He was such an enigma, really - fierce and strong and weak and cruel. An incomparable friend and a son of a bitch. In the end, there wasn't one thing about him that was truer than the rest. It was all true.”

“Everything he said sounded wonderful, but it wasn't true. I was desperately insecure and I did care what people thought. Jackson wasn't really talking about me. He was talking about an idea of me he'd concocted in his head. As soon as he remembered me and my true weaknesses in the clear light of day, he'd be as cruel this time as he had been the last.”

“The weak are cruel. The strong have no need to be.”

“Ah, son of a bitch. Mouse, you fucking deserved more than this. More than dying in the goddamn dirt. You’re more than this to me. You’re my friend.” Beckett’s emotions got him again, and he sobbed deeply into the dark.”

“Give her a weak man and she'll inadvertently run rings around him. He simply wasn't strong enough for her.”

“There is no place for someone like him in the Society, I think, for someone who can create. He can do so many things of incomparable value, things no one else can do, and the Society doesn't care about that at all.”