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

“Arms and legs thrashing. The hammer of blood.I’m coming, says Jude. And holds her breath. Orgasm is brief, nonviolent. What color? I say Devastating blue, she says. The pale blue eyes of a murdered boy. Very nice. You remembered, she says. Jude comes in colors. How could I forget. Trembling blond orgasms that seem to piss her off and rare pink orgasms that never end. Chemical red orgasms that fill her with guilt and perfect orgasms black as fresh earth. Orgasms shadowy and gray that may or may not cause her to weep and orgasms the color of bruised skin, orgasms that fade from purple to yellow and remain visible for days.”

“I have saved no one but myself and now I watch for the other universe to unravel in my skull, for the sky to become my own skin and fill with stars.”

“Reality is in the business of killing off fiction.”

“I'm cold, Religiously cold.”

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

“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.”