And I think of nothing. I think of nothing but Rachel. What happens next is pure magic, and is for us and us alone.

Anger was a waste of time and energy. Anger was useless."Anger" was the label given to the emotion that accomplished nothing.

We can know what love is. It´s adults who have forgotten, so they cling to their poor substitute and yell at kids who dare to live with real love. Pure Love. Love without compromise or distraction.

And I think of nothing. I think of nothing but Rachel. What happens next is pure magic, and is for us and us alone.

...called nine-one-one," Howie was saying, "and then I heard something in the alleyway, so I went back there and" --Howie coughed-- "and valiantly attacked his knife with my guts, to no avail." "Did you get a good look at him? Could you describe him?" Howie smiled wanly. "Yeah. He was about yay long" --he held up his hands, four inches apart-- "thin, made of steel. Pointy. Sharp.

Jazz spent a chunk of the day fantasizing about ways to kill his grandmother, plotting them and planning them in the most excruciating, gruesome detail his imagination would allow. It turned out his imagination allowed quite a bit. He spent the rest of the day convincing himself--over and over--not to do it.

The best revenge is living well, my dad told me once.