Your mortal attachments are like a puppet’s strings," Avari said, both hands clasped casually at his back. "One need only pluck the right cord to make the puppet dance." His smile was almost creepier than his threats. "Dance, reaper!

There was just no good way for a dead son to greet his mother almost two weeks after his funeral.

You should be careful, tossing descriptors like that around in a situation like this. My ‘problem’ isn’t little. Unless you’re drawing some pretty wild comparisons. Please tell me you’re not drawing wild comparisons. Or blood-relative comparisons.

When he finally stopped calling, the hush felt strange. It felt like the whole world went silent when Marc did, as if I could see peoples mouths moving, but I couldnt hear what they were saying. Like I'd gone deaf.

The worst memories stick with us, while the nice ones always seem to slip through our fingers.

So, you reap souls and crush hopes? Is that part of the job, or just a service you offer for free?

If this had ever happened before, it couldn't be happening now. That's what they mean by 'once in a lifetime'.