Crank, You See isn't any ordinary monster. It's like a giant octopus, weaving its tentacles not just around you, but through you, squeezing not hard enough to kill you, but enough to keep you from reeling until you try to get away. Try, and you hunger for it grasping clutch, the way its tendrils prop you up, your need intensifying exponentially every minute you refuse to admit its being (p.469)

And how can it be he's so in love with me? To grow up without love, and still have so much inside?

You gotta be crazy to open your windows, invite the demons in.

Even good girls have secrets, ones even their best friends must guess.

Happily ever after is a concept I'll never believe in.

Now that I have opened that bottle of memories they're pouring out like wine, crimson and bittersweet.

I tattered their wings and tore off their legs, joint by joint, watched them crawl in circles, like little lost infants, untill they decide to die.