“What was your name again?""Still Eve.""No, I'm sure it's something else. That doesn't seem right.”

“I'm all for getting trashed," I confess."I'm sure you are, except I'll clue you in on a little something: when it's over, your problems still exist.”

“I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)”

“Eve. That torpedo mind-fuck sex was outrageous and fantastically titillating. Titi-fuck-illating. But there was something else as well. Emotional, a small voice in Beckett’s head suggested. Connected. Well, shit. That seemed just about right. Definitely something new.”

“Until one morning, I'll wake up and find I'm thinking about something else, and then I'll know the worst is over. My heart might be bruised, but it will recover and became capable of seeing the beauty of life once more. It's happened before, it will happen again, I'm sure. When someone leaves, it's because someone else is about to arrive--I'll find love again.”

“The full impact of silver--liquid fire, hot and flowing hit me hard in that place in your belly that doesn't exist for food, but for something else entirely. It exists solely to possess the feeling that it barely held in check right then. I don't know what it was. I don't think it has a name.”