“We needed every detail of the crimes to get him charged; I had to walk him through them. I was like a tourist visiting Hell. I tried to memorize his words, retain all the details of the crimes, while at the same time warding off visions of the events. It was like watching a movie with my eyes closed.”

“Once he entered my life, I promptly forgot all my years of putting on a brave face while browsingat bookstores until closing time, and of having one, two, three beers while watching crime showsand CNN. I completely forgot the hateful sensation of loneliness, like thirst and hunger togetherpressing on my stomach.”

“That's all my grandfather was guilty of, fear, faith in his words, but that was a high crime in her eyes. That's all Jack was guilty of that day, but I've lived with him a good while and I believe I understand him. Sometimes it might take an afternoon or evening of being here in this kitchen alone, thinking, but I can usually come to see his reasons through his ways. And half the job of finding peace is finding understanding. Don't you believe it to be so?”

“I remember his eyes. They are just like mine. Every time I look in the mirror I see him. I try not to look at my self too much.”

“to know a piece of grass, you’ve got to see the ground that grew it. Maybe that’s why I remember every detail of that night, every inch of ground we covered, as I followed Zach to the place that had made him, seeing them both with fresh eyes.”

“I like looking back at people's faces in the dark. I like noticing details that no one else sees. But I hate it in the old American movies when drivers don't watch the road.”