“Walk out of this with your parents, the stones, and Darroc dead, Ms. Lane, and I‘ll give you the bloody thing.”

“What the bloody hell are you, Ms. Lane?”

“You, Ms. Lane, are a menace to others! A walking, talking catastrophe in pink!”

“Do your thing, Ms. Lane. you might be criminally young, but the night is not.”

“There are two kinds of people in the world Ms. Lane: those who survive no matter the cost and those who are walking victims.”

“Charlotte Corday walked alone
Paris birds sang sugar calls
Charlotte walked down lanes of stone
through the haze of perfume stalls
Charlotte smelt the dead's gangrene
Heard the singing guillotine”

“The two of you are getting downright chatty, aren't you, Ms. Lane? When did you last see him? what else did he tell you?
I'm asking the questions tonight.
If an illusion of control comforts you, Ms. Lane, by all means, cling to it.”

“Lose the pessimism, Ms. Lane. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“I told you, Ms. Lane, never believe anything is dead-"
"- I know, I know, until you've 'burned it, poked around in its ashes, and then waited a day or two to see if anything rises from them.”

“I can smell you, Ms. Lane," he said, even more softly. "The only blood on you is from your veins, not your womb."
My head whipped to the left and I stared at him. Ok, that was one of the more disturbing things he'd ever said to me.”