You're leaving me, Rainbow Girl.

I get off on a man with strong moral fiber. The closest Barrons ever gets to fiber is walking down the cereal aisle at the grocery store.

Omnipotent not omniscient. We are frequently blinded by how much we see.

I wasn't prepared for death. Nobody is. You lose someone you love more than you love yourself, and you get a crash course in mortality. You lie awake night after night, wondering if you really believe in heaven and hell and finding all kinds of reasons to cling to faith, because you can't bear to believe they aren't out there somewhere, a few whispered words of a prayer away.

Gah, some chicks should be shot. Put out of everyone else's reproduction pool.

The sun's nearly level with the horizon, right behind his head, making this weird halo effect around his face—as if! I'm surprised he doesn't smell like brimstone. He probably has a red pitchfork and hides horns under his hair.

Gwen Cassidy needed a man. Desperately. Failing that, she'd settle for a cigarette.