If you're skating on thin ice, you might as well dance.

To leave, after all, was not the same as being left.

Children don't heal as well.. they change.. they mutate with disaster and make accomodations.

I loved him," Muire said. "We were in love." As if that were enough.

I guess that's the point of drinking, to take all the feelings and thoughts and morals away until you are just a body doing what a body will do.

That I have no right to be jealous is irrelevant. It is a human passion: the sick, white underbelly of love.

And she thought then how strange it was that disaster--the sort of disaster that drained the blood from your body and took the air out of your lungs and hit you again and again in the face--could be at times, such a thing of beauty.