As Lacy waited for her turn to speak on Peter's behalf, she thought back to the first time she realized she could hate her own child.

She suddenly remembered studying the brain in science class- how a steel rod pierced a man's skull, and he opened his mouth to speak Portuguese, a language he'd never studied. Maybe it would be like this, now, for Josie. Maybe her native tongue, from here on in, would be a string of lies.

If you gave someone your heart and they died, did they take it with them? Did you spend the rest of forever with a hole inside you that couldn't be filled?

When she wanted to escape her life, she read books

Life is not a plot; it's in the details.

You want to write something as good as what you've read.

Maybe the reason I've never died in this story is that I've never had something worth dying for before.