There's only room for one hero in this story-and everyone knows the devil doesn't get to be the good guy.

The soul may not be destroyed. The soul goes on forever. Like the number pi, it is without cessation or conclusion. Like pi it is a constant. Pi is an irrational number, incapable of being made into a fraction, impossible to divide from itself. So, too, the soul is an irrational, indivisible equation that perfectly expresses one thing: you.

She just knew that even when you had nothing, you still had love.

Music [is] the third rail of life. You grabbed it to shock yourself out of the dull drag of hours. To feel something. To burn with all the emotions you didn't get to experience in the ordinary run of school, TV, and loading the dishwasher after dinner.

Who knows what may lie around the next corner? There may be a window somewhere ahead. It may look out on a field of sunflowers.

You'll have pie in the sky when you die.

Horror was rooted in sympathy . . . in understanding what it would be like to suffer the worst.