If this was what caring about someone was like, what the hell was he supposed to do? Because he couldn't handle it, couldn't live like this.

What am I doing here, Reena? Why am I dancing to the tunes of that old hag?" You are saving your family.

You who understand what a human mind can be, how can you bear it? I don't have the hundredth part of your mind and there are days when I think I'll go mad. I can feel it. Or hear it. It's more like...

You are at once both the quite and the confusion of my heart.

The questions push me further into the space in between, the place where my madness lays waiting for me. I struggle with each question, determined to extract some sort of answer, an explanation for...

The problem with magic was that it made her feel very alone.

I long to drift through turquoise skies; race the wind in rampant flight. Ruddy chains have framed my eyes, they seize my heart and stain the light.

No use kidding herself. This situation with Jarrod was a slippery slope. She'd had plenty of men since Sam, attractive, well endowed, charming in many ways. Jarrod was different, and she needed to...

What treaty is it that finally separates those two territories, the hard resolve of our exteriors and the terrible disaster on our insides?

Sunshine, if I ever disappear, please tell people that I ran after the Devil, trying to get my soul back.

She was like a heroine in a novel that she herself was writing; the character kept protesting that she was too strong for love, and yet the narrator went on describing her desire.

Those words, that voice, had more power over me than any phantom ever could.

This is what hell looks like, she thought.

Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to meditate when you're murdering someone?

I wished to pour out all these thoughts to someone, but how to express that silence which is impossible to articulate, that which changes its images like clouds and rages within itself like the wind!

- in reality it was escape she wanted, escape from her own self -

This is working out pretty well, all things considered. My giddy side wants to giggle, but I choke it down. Later for the girlishness.

I smiled and I really felt at that moment that Judas and the Savior had met in me. And yet even this was not as real as my despairing sense that nothing was real for me again - unless, indeed, this...

"Oh, it's lovely to see you!' Franny said as the cab moved off. 'I've missed you.' The words were no sooner out than she realized that she didn't mean them at all."

Yet most of the time that I'm awake, I want to cut. Not small words either. Equivocate. Inarticulate. Duplicitous. At my hospital back in Illinois they would not approve of this craving.