Poison and medicine are often the same thing, given in different proportions

Heaven is comfort, but it's still not living.

I would do exactly what you are doing: I would talk to everyone I needed to, I would not tell too many people his name. When I was sure," she said, "I would find a quiet way, and I would kill him.

At the tips of the feathers there is air and at their base: blood. I hold up bones; I wish like broken glass they could court light....still I try to place these pieces back together, to set them firm, to make murdered girls live again.

As she brought prospective buyers through, the realtor said it was an oil stain, but it was me, seeping out of the bag.

My name is Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered.

How could it be that you could love someone so much and keep it secret from yourself as you woke daily so far from home?