You're staring," Lana said. "Yes. I am. I'm a teenage boy. Beautiful girls in wet underwear have a tendency to cause staring in teenage boys.

Its the fate of all creators: They fall in love with their creations.

Because that, more than any monster, was what Sam had feared: that he was weak and cowardly. He had a terrible fear of being afraid.

Sam, there comes a time when the world no longer needs heroes. And then the true hero knows to walk away.

One minute the teacher was talking about the Civil War. And the next minute he was gone. There. Gone. No 'poof.' No flash of light. No explosion.

Ninth graders with machine guns: its hard to make that a happy story.

It's over, Sam. Finally." "Yeah," he said. "I guess it is." "Turn out the light, Sam." Sam reached for the switch and turned out the light.