Perhaps God waits for us to be empty, so he may fill us with himself.

I don't care what the stars say about how small we are. One, even the smallest, weakest, most insignificant one, matters.

Some things you can never leave behind. They don't belong to the past. They belong to you.

Hold on tight, Sam." He puts me in a choke hold. "Ahhh," I gasp. "Not that tight.

We are the hunters---and we are also the bait.

We'd stared into the face of Death, and Death blinked first. You'd think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn't.

Is it any wonder the power this man held over me - this man who did not run from his demons like most of us do, but embraced them as his own, clutching them to his heart in a choke-hold grip. He did not try to escape them by denying them or drugging them or bargaining with them. He met them where they lived, in the secret place most of us keep hidden. Warthrop was Warthrop down to the marrow of his bones, for his demons defined him; they breathed the breath of life into him; and without them, he would go down, as most of us do, into the purgatorial fog of a life unrealized.