Death is the last intimate thing we ever do.

Some wounds cut us so deep that they stop us. Stop us from letting go, from growing up, from seeing the truth.

If you keep a gun in your purse, you get killed, because no woman can find anything in her purse in under twelve minutes. It's a rule.

Once upon a time wasn't as long ago as it used to be.

Better to assume the worst and be wrong than assume the best and be wrong.

I hated missing the end of anything. I was always convinced that the bit I'd miss would be the best part.

I locked the door, for what good it would do me, and went to bed. The Browning Hi-Power was in its second home, a modified holster strapped to the headboard of my bed. The crucifix was cool metal around my neck. I was as safe as I was going to be and almost too tired to care. I took one more thing to bed with me, a stuffed toy penguin named Sigmund. I don't sleep with him often, just every once in a while after someone tries to kill me. Everyone has their weaknesses. Some people smoke. I collect stuffed penguins. If you won't tell, I won't.