Lovers are weapons, but love is a wound.

Once upon a time there were two parents, two children, and a brick house with lilies in the yard. The parents died, the lilies wilted. One child disappeared. Then the other." Pg 225

He sits next to me, careful to avoid my hair that's splayed out around my head like blood. A bullet to the forehead, boom, blond waves everywhere.

She's beautiful and graceful, and she is very compassionate and loyal when you aren't responsible for the murder of her family.

Do you know what my father used to say?" I ask her. "He used to say that songs had a heart. A crescendo that can make all your blood rush from your head to your toes.

I think, in this strange world of beautiful things, there may be some humanity after all.

No matter how lonely it makes me, and no matter how wide and horrific the loneliness, at least I remember who I am.