“He is suddenly, dodderer and ass, taken by an ache in his skin, a simple love for them both that asks nothing but their safety, and he'll always manage to describe as something else--'concern,' you know, 'fondness...”

“We're alright, you know?" he says quietly. "You and me, okay?" My chest aches and I nod. "Nothing else is alright." His breath tickles my cheek. "But we are.”

“We're all right, you know,' he says quietly. 'You and me. Okay?' My chest aches, and I nod. 'Nothing else is all right.' His whisper tickles my cheek. 'But we are.”

“He felt Death reaching out to him. But all of a sudden there was something else, too: words. Words that relieved the pain, cooled his brow, and spoke of love, nothing but love... It was his daughter's voice, and the White Women withdrew their pale hands as if they had burned themselves on her love.”

“But you love to play the good man,don't you? Do you know what's worse than a villain? A villain who thinks he's ahero. A man like that, there's nothing he won't do, and he'll always find himself anexcuse.”

“Have you ever wanted something that you knew was bad for you? Something that you ached for so much you could think of nothing else? [Wren]”