The process of growing up was nothing more than figuring out what doors hadn't yet been slammed in your face.

What's stronger-the need to uphold the law, or the motive to turn one's back on it?

This was something she would keep hidden within herself, maybe in place of the knot of pain and anger she had been carrying under her breastbone...a security blanket, an ace up her sleeve. She might never use it, but she would always feel its presence like a swelling secret stone, and that way when she let go of the rage, she would not feel nearly as empty.

Scars are just a treasure map for pain you've buried too deep to remember.

When someone loves you up one side and down the other like that, you make every effort to stick around.

Or. I hate that word. It’s two letters long and stuffed to the gills with reasonable doubt.

If you focus on sandbagging the beachhead, you can ignore the tsunami that's approaching. Try it any other way and you'll go crazy.