Some things are sacred. Until you act like they're not. Then you lose them

Barrons was powerful, broodingly good-looking, insanely wealthy, frighteningly intelligent, and had exquisite taste, not to mention a hard body that emitted some kind of constant low-level charge. Bottom line: He was the stuff of heroes. And psychotic killers.

I've learned a thing or two from Barrons: Power is sexy. It shapes my spine, infuses my beckoning hand. I have not been devastated by Barrons' death. The alchemy of grief has forged a new metal. I have been transformed. There's only one way I can make his death okay. Undo it.

Grief shared was grief lessened.

Yesterday was a memory. Tomorrow was a hope. Today was another day to live and do one's best to love

I see God in a sunrise, not in repetitious ritual.

Now you know how I justify my addictions—if I can pay less for it than I would at Wal-Mart, I get to have it.