Yesterday is skin on snake, to be shed many times.

The two of you are getting downright chatty, aren't you, Ms. Lane? When did you last see him? what else did he tell you? I'm asking the questions tonight. If an illusion of control comforts you, Ms. Lane, by all means, cling to it.

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

Your feet will bring you to where your heart is.

He doesn’t beat me,” I said irritably. “I’d kill him if he did.” “She would. She has a temper. Stubborn, too. But we’re working on that, aren’t we, Ms. Lane?

There are really only two positions one can take toward anything in life: hope or fear. Hope strengthens, fear kills.

If he were any other man, I might have suspected him of substance abuse, of being coked up or something. But Barrons was too much a purist for that; his drugs were money, power, and control