The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Manhattan was a no-man's land, empty, an unofficial demilitarized zone between Partials and the human survivors. No one was supposed to be here, not because it was forbidden but because it was dangerous. If something happened to you out here, either side could get you, and neither side could protect you.

If you have the strength to whine, you have the strength to do something about it.

Life is a lone wolf, scratching out a living with teeth and claws and a heart of stone.

The monster behind the wall stirred. I'd come to think of it as a monster, but it was just me. Or the darker part of me, at least. You probably think it would be creepy to have a real monster hiding inside of you, but trust me - it's far, far worse when the monster is really just your own mind. Calling it a monster seemed to distance it a little, which made me feel better about it. Not much better, but I take what I can get.

The last to fall were the buildings, distant and solemn, the gravestones for an entire world.

I'd made a long list of exceptions to cover the area between "ignoring her completely" and "abducting her at knifepoint.