“He was dropped under a streetlamp, the only person left on the bus. A patch of mauled light. Gritty pavement, scarred with a million cigarette burns. Weeds and spit and oil. Place like this, the only glitter was the knife just before it sank in. Place like this, there wasn't any gold.”
“Oh well, maybe the only beauty left in cities is in the oil slicks on the road and maybe there isn't any beauty left in the people who live in these places.”
“As long as you burn like oil you’ll shine like light. If you are shining, it is because you are burning like oil”
“Rain fell in great sheets, hitting the pavement hard enough to send up a blattering, dirty mist. A small man stood on the corner, under the only working streetlamp, and studied the street.”
“There is only darkness, starless and complete. The waves glitter like a million dull knives.”
“I've been at the place where it seems like the only way left is down.”