“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.”

“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 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.”

“A friend is like anything else. A dog, a plant. You ignore them and they tend to die on you.”

“Anything you can imagine is probably true. And the worst you can imagine is probably worth money.”