She would be half a planet away, floating in a turquoise sea, dancing by moonlight to flamenco guitar.

When most people looked at Josie Tyrell, they only saw a certain collection of bones, a selection of forms filling space. But Michael saw past the mouth and the eyes, the architecture of the body, her fleshly masquerade. Other boys were happy enough to enjoy the show, they just wanted to be entertained in the body's shadow theater. But Michael had to come backstage. He went down into the mines, into the dark, and brought up the gold, your new self, a better self. But what good was it if he was just going to leave her behind?

These people picked you up and played with you and then left you lying in the rain

But I knew one more thing. That people w ho denied who they were or where they had been were in the greatest danger.

I took the volume to a table, opened its soft, ivory pages... and fell into it as into a pool during dry season.

Love's an illusion. It's a dream you wake up from with an enormous hangover and net credit debt. I'd rather have cash.

In a perverse way, I was glad for the stitches, glad it would show, that there would be scars. What was the point in just being hurt on the inside? It should bloody well show.