Point is, people lie a lot. Sometimes out of habit. Not many people are good at telling the truth.

It’s easier to be a character in a story than the star of your own tragedy.

The truth is the truth. What changes is what we know about it and what we're willing to believe.

Guilt and rage, hatred and fear were pathways to weakness and clumsy choices.

His specialty was interrogation. Imagine it, gentlemen. Being strapped to a table so that you are entirely at the mercy of a monster such as this. A person who delights in your pain. A person to whom your screams are more delicious than a lover's whisper. A creature who knows how to keep you alive while he skillfully and meticulously deconstructs those things that define you as human?

My whole body is a lethal weapon, you know. I know more ways to kill you than you know how to die.

...but it was death that changed. People are still people. Some good, some bad. Death changed, and we don't know what death really means anymore. Maybe that was the point. Maybe this is an object lesson about the arrogance of our assumptions. Hard to say. But the world? She didn't change. She healed. We stopped hurting her and she began to heal. You can see it all around. The whole world is a forest now. The air is fresher. More trees, more oxygen.