No matter how many times she was told that she was loved, there was no recognition that the proof was in the abandonment.

I traveled the globe as always, handing souls to the conveyor belt of eternity.

It's a lot easier, she realized, to be on the verge of something than to actually be it. This would still take time.

He killed himself for wanting to live.

He was waving. "Saukerl," she laughed, and as she held up her hand, she knew completely that he was simultaneously calling her a Saumensch. I think that's as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get.

I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race - that rarely do I ever simply estimate it.

She closes the door completely, and I crouch there. I allow myself to fall forward and rest my head on the door frame. My breath bleeds. My heartbeat drowns my ears.