“What do you think?" he asks."I hate them," I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you've brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?" "I see them every night," he says.”

“Angels?' 'You know. The ones in the old stories. How they can fly to heaven.' 'Do you think anyone believes in them anymore?' he asks. 'I don't know. No. Do you?' 'I believe in you.' he says.”

“We face up to awful things because we can't go around them, or forget them. The sooner you say 'Yes, it happened, and there's nothing I can do about it,' the sooner you can get on with your own life. You've got children to bring up. So you've got to get over it. What we have to get over, somehow we do. Even the worst things.”

“You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.”

“What do you guys even do every night?" The words slip from my mouth before I can stop them."It," Rashmi says. "They do it. He's ditching us to screw.”

“And what exactly do you think this proves?" he spits. "You've got power, but you don't know what to do with it." VIOLA "Looks like I'm doing fine," I say.”