Because it protects you. And when I jumped from the Humvee, I believed it would save me, too, in the same way you believe it will always save you.” “No, I don’t,” Thibault began. “Then why, my friend, do you still carry it with you?

Life, he decided, was for living, not for having, and he wanted to experience every moment that he could.

I'll be anything you want, just tell me what you want and I'll be that.

If hers are the stars in the nighttime sky, mine are the haunted empty spaces in between.

I suppose [my life] has most resembled a blue chip stock: fairly stable, more ups than downs, and gradually trending upward over time. A good buy, a lucky buy, and I've learned that not everyone can say that about his life.

She'd always believed that people come in two varieties: those who look out the windshield and those who stare in the rearview mirror. She'd always been the windshield type: gotta focus on the future, not the past, because that's the only part that's still up for grabs. Mom throws me out? Gotta get some food and find a place to live. Husband dies? Gotta keep working, or I'll end up going crazy. Got some guy stalking me? Gotta figure out a way to stop it.

Poetry, she thought, wasn't written to be analyzed; it was meant to inspire without reason, to touch without understanding.