In a book, even the real bastards can't hurt you. And you can never loose a friend you make in a book. When you get to a sad part, no one's there to see you cry. Or wonder why you don't cry when you should.

Then what are you? An electronic Hannibal Lector? You can't eat my liver with fava beans through a modem, you know.

It's only life. We all get through it.

What really holds their marriage together are mutual respect of an awesome depth, a shared sense of humor, faith that they were brought together by a force greater than themselves, and a love so unwavering and pure that it is sacred.

I possess everyone who sleeps in the motor court, roam their memories, and embed recurrent nightmares that will destroy their sleep for weeks after I’ve departed them.”“I’d prefer a free continental breakfast.

He's my father, whoever he is, so he must have had sex with my mother at least once, and I'd love to kill him for that.

Talking about a problem sometimes makes it worse.

...like a scene from the swamps of Louisiana or the mind of Poe on opium.