“She shuddered. “What is it with slobbery kissers? Are they trying to drown us in spit? I mean, Jesus, swallow every now and then.”

“And, Jesus, she's a good kisser. So good I want to beat the hell out of whoever taught her.”

“What we become shouldn't be dictated by the mud and the dung and the dust and the fire and the ice and the dirt and the spit that hit us in the face, but what we become must be a choice made every day in the heart; and they who threw all of that at us to try and defile us– they will look up at us and see us no less beautiful. And even more beautiful.”

“Want to go upstairs and play ball?""Now, you're talking. Naked basketball. Always my favorite.""Loser gets fucked first.""Jesus, Thursday, every time you set that rule you cheat.""What do you mean, I cheat? I usually lose.""That's exactly what I mean.”

“I think we're avoiding the most important question here. What matters most. What means the most to men like us." Conall growled at Billy Dunwich's sincere face. "I am not telling you if she swallows."Dunwich smiled. "Just tell me if she's a good girl...or if she's a very good girl?”

“She carried a knife inside of herself now, one that was always cutting her. She could feel it every time she swallowed, every time her thoughts strayed from the splendor of the wild.”