He had not even done the fledgling courtesy of shredding open a major artery, anointing himself in the viscous gore, and desecrating her body. The order was as flexible as her corpse remained.

You catch a lot more flies with honey than vinegar, as they say, though I warrant you get even more flies with corpses. Flies aren’t too picky, when you come to it.

You got a vicious animal inside you. It wants to snap, it wants to attack, but it's harmless because some woman fitted a muzzle on it. Now, how do you imagine it feels about that muzzle? How do you think it will regard the woman the moment that muzzle is off, and she is within biting distance?

They wouldn’t have understood if they found him crying, when he woke and remembered all at once that he had once had a wife and child, so they never found him this way.

I feel as though I have leapt off this massive cliff and I am still building my wings… Everyone just assumes I know how to fly, but I am pretty sure I am only falling gracefully and hoping to miss the ground.

She could not keep his death in her head, like when she tried to imagine the infiniteness of the universe and nearly swooned at the vastness of the thought.