What could thunderbirds want with us?" I wondered aloud [...] "We'll find out when Big Bird wakes up," Marc said. My father shook his head. "We'll find out now. Wake him up and make him sing.

How long until you have to go...reap?" I whispered as my arms slid around his neck. Like we were dancing. Only we weren't moving, and there was no music. "Don't know. Don't care." "Won't you get in trouble if you miss something?" "See my previous answer.

I realized that I'd rather die with you than live with someone else.

Anger is great. It's powerful, when you need something to hold you up. Something to steel your spine. But in the dark, when you're alone with the truth, anger can't survive. The only thing that can live in the dark with you is fear.

Uh, yeah, I do. The scythe was a little tricky at first, but—much like golf—turns out it’s all in the swing.

Should I assume the lure is a certain attractive young dead man?

She wasn't feeling nothing. She was feeling too much. She was blocking it all out. That was a survival skill, and her still-beating heart was proof that it worked.