I'll call you," he repeated. "If you call me, I won't pick up the phone." "You will wait by the phone for my call, and when it rings, you will pick it up and you will speak to me in a civil manner. If you don't know how, ask someone.

I have a serious question." "I will give a serious answer." "Can a god be killed?" The humor drained from Roman's face. "Well, that depends on if you're a pantheist or a Marxist." "What's the difference?" "The first believes that divinity is the universe. The two are synonymous and nonexistent without each other. The second believes in anthropocentrism, seeing man in the center of the universe, and god as just an invention of human conscience. Of course, if you follow Nietzsche, you can kill God just by thinking about him.

I just had to stay cool. Zen. No punching in the face. Punching would not be Zen.

Yes I can,” Curran snarled. “Listen: this is me telling you what you will not do.” I raised the cookbook and tapped him on the nose. Bad cat.

How is it that I could run into a gunfight against overwhelming odds and put myself between bullets and civilians, but I couldn't scrape together enough courage to speak to the one person who mattered the most to me?

Is there anything else you need to tell me?” Every time I look at you, I have to put a leash on myself. “No.

I could have fixed almost everything else, but death defeated me every time.