“I don’t see a way in,” Eve whispered.
Why are you whispering?” Myrnin whispered back. “Vampires can hear us, anyway.”

“There’s something
so great about this,” she whispers.
About what?” I whisper back.

About this,” she whispers.
About being outlaws.
It’s just you and me—against the world.”

“Sometimes, if you stand very still in the shadows of those places, you can hear songs on the wind, whispers in the trees. That is why I travel.”

“…Why am I even whispering? It's not like they're actually gonna hear me.”

“Thank you," she whispered, "for keeping yourself alive, soldier."
"You're welcome," he whispered back.”

“Let us be silent, that we may hear the whisper of God.”

“So this was how you died, in whispers that you did not hear.”

“The Ninja, as you know, operates by stealth. And so, case in point: I put out records… no one hears them! I make videos… (whispers) no one sees! I go on tour…. (whispers) no one knows! NINJA! I was never here!”

“I never forget,” Myrnin said in a choked whisper. “Certainly not with your nails in my throat. They’re quite an excellent mnemonic device.”

“She knows that whispers can be useful. Sometimes they contain real information. But usually they're fairy tales and lies. This is the worst kind of whisper, the kind that draws you in, gives you hope.”