“All right," Marcus said, like he was doing me a grave favor. "But take it slow, sister. Any sudden moves and we'll drop you like a used-up ho on the corner of Fifth and Bridger.”

“I saw you, looking like Hayworth, making me want to pin you up, pin you down, take you for a different kind of ride altogether.”

“I think you look like the spawn of Satan.""Yeah, and you still look like my brother's favorite blow-up doll.""Speaking of, what's the deal with the size of my breasts in last month's manual?" He'd drawn me so top heavy a stiff wind could have knocked me off balance."Creative license," he said with a shrug."A little too creative.”

“Do I seem like the white-picket-fence sort of girl to you, Carl?" "No, you seem like the blood-soaked-walls kind of girl to me.”

“Why the hell was she smiling like that?...Her mouth was blown so wide that the soft insides showed at the corners, like another grin was building in there. As if her laughter tumbled. Like joy was a living thing.”

“...a companion had seemed unnecessary fuel when her body still burned at the core, waiting to ignite. But now, with the wind blowing icicles through her [Kit] veins, it felt like she, too, was in the grave. All her nuclear energy had been snuffed like a match between the night's icy fingers.”

“...Death," she said, as her hand dropped away, " is how you know you were alive in the first place.”