“Anybody can be a victim, and anybody can flog themselves. Big fucking deal. But you put one foot on a ladder and climb to the next rung. Then you've done something. Then you've made a difference. And then what happens matters. Otherwise, it's just old news, and nobody wants to hear about it.”

“They don't matter. I thought I had to prove something, and I did, to myself. There's nothing left for me to prove. I can move on with my life.”

“Sure, why not?" she said. "You know, you read about a crime in the paper and you think how terrible for the victims, and then you turn the page and move on.”

“We do the best we can," she said softly, looking inward. "And punish ourselves for it. I've tried to make my choices with the idea that I've made those choices for the greatest good. Sometimes someone suffers in the process, but I made the decision for the right reason. That should count for something, shouldn't it?”

“It wouldn't do him any good to cry, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to think. He had to try to gather as much information as he could, and lay it all out, and reason through it, and come up with some ideas of what to do and how to help.”

“Annie winced. "Ooooh, you know, it's remarks like that that lead people to draw unflattering conclusions about your sanity.”

“I'm telling you, you did what you believed you had to do through all of this. Not what was easiest or best for you. You did what you did, and you're owning it. And I don't know ten men who would be brave enough to do that.”