I had a funny feeling as I saw the house disappear, as though I had written a poem and it was very good and I had lost it and would never remember it again.

I don’t mind if you don’t like my manners. They’re pretty bad. I grieve over them during the long winter evenings.

If I had a razor, I'd cut your throat - just to see what ran out of it."

"Caterpillar blood," I said.

You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that, oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell. Me, I was part of the nastiness now. Far more a part of it than Rusty Regan was.

Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.

She poured us some more Scotch. It didn't seem to affect her any more than water affects Boulder Dam.