“I'm cold, Religiously cold.”

“I'm going to kill Jude this afternoon for fun, then eat my own putrid kidney for dinner.”

“Multiple personalities. Don't freak out but I'm pretty sure I have them. Not a clinical thing, not a disease. But a distraction to be sure. There are maybe six or seven pretty concrete versions of myself knocking around in here and I mean it gets fucking crowded when everybody is drunk or talking at once.”

“I am so stupid, so easily fooled. It's really almost funny. If I could lift a finger I would gladly kill myself.”

“Which do you prefer, she says. Sex or Violence?I try to smile. What's the difference, really.”

“Disappear, she says. I love that word.”

“I crouch beside her bed and stumble through the only prayer I know: now I lay me down to sleep and pray the Lord my soul to keep. It's a appropriate, I think. And still I feel worthless. I want to comfort her, to chase her fears into the snow. But sympathy is buried in me, like a stone in the belly of a goat. And the goat is the rare animal that will eat garbage. I hold her hand until she falls asleep, then steal fifty dollars from her purse.”