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“You say you want more sleeping pills?" "Yes." "But the ones I gave you last week are very strong." "They don't work any more." […] "What seems to be the matter?" Teresa said then. "I can't sleep. I can't read." I tried to speak in a cool, calm way, but the zombie rose up in my throat and choked me off. I turned my hands palm up. "I think," Teresa tore off a white slip from her prescription pad and wrote down a name and address, "you'd better see another doctor I know. He'll be able to help you more than I can." I peered at the writing, but I couldn't read it. "Doctor Gordon," Teresa said. "He's a psychiatrist.”

“You say you're supposed to be nice to the Episcopalians and the Presbyterians and the Methodists and this, that, and the other thing. Nonsense. I don't have to be nice to the spirit of the Antichrist. I can love the people who hold false opinions but I don't have to be nice to them”

“You say your name is?" "Redlyn Dark." I say "Redlyn. Do you know what Redlyn means in this world?" I didn't answer. "It means," the king griped my face with one hand hard enough to hurt. "It means to different things. One, the word Red means blood. Two the whole name Redlyn means worrier." I nodded. I've heard what my name means before. "Do you know why your name means what it means?" The king turned my face to each side over and over again. I stayed quiet. "Answer the question, Redlyn." "Because the color red is the same as blood and Redlyn is what the legend says a child will be named and she will be a worrier." The king's grip tightened, I wanted to cry out, but I couldn't. "You're wrong. I do not care for you're nickname, Redlyn is the name of a worrier queen who left her kingdom in order to find and kill the worlds powerful and dangers people.”

“You say your name is - was - Camille," said Leon. "I *am* Camille. And I am human," she replied, with a hint of indignation. "You're *not* human," snapped Lawrence. "You're a copy. A recreation. A - " "I am Camille Ramuelle. I am a proud Hausa. I lived in Niger. I lost one parent to disease and one to militamen. I always dreamed of going to school but I had to care for my brother and sister or they would starve." She inspected her hands. "These are my hands, my fingers, and they are as much mine now as they once were before.”

“You say, 'If I had a little more, I should be very satisfied.' You make a mistake. If you are not content with what you have, you would not be satisfied if it were doubled.”

“You say, 'Well, I love secular music.' Let me just share something with you: I don't care. I'm not going to go there; this is what I'm going to tell you: It doesn't matter to me whether it's secular or Christian. My question is, what's being said in those words? Because if what's being said in those words contradicts the will of God, you're violating His will, and you're loving it.”

“You sayin' you want to go?" "Don't you?" "Hell no!" "Okay,I'll tell Matt and Jared that they can go to Paris without us." The only response was stunned silence, and I finally turned to smile at him. "Do you want to reconsider?" I asked. "The wedding's in Paris?" "Yep." His dark eyes were huge, and I could see so much in them. He was excited, almost giddy. I could see it bubbling up in him, but he was trying t stay calm and not get his hopes up. "Can we afford Paris?" "No," I said, "but it doesn't matter. Cole's footing the bill." He grabbed my shirt and pushed me back against the countertop, almost as if he was going to kiss me, but stopped short, looking into my eyes. "Are you serious?" "Would I lie to you about something like this?" "No." "Do you think I'd make it up just to tease you?" "No." "Yes." He backed up a step. "Yes what?" he asked. I could hardly keep from laughing that I'd finally managed to turn the tables on him with his own backward form of communication. "Yes, I'm absolutely serious. Cole offered to fly us all to Paris." ... His expression was so full of hope, I thought it was a good thing I hadn't tried to say no. He put his hand against my cheek and looked into my eyes. "Tell me what you want to do." All I had to do was tell him the truth. I brushed his hair out of his eyes and said, "I want to do whatever will make you happy." He smiled at me, the huge, excited smile of a child who woke up from his nap to find himself in Disneyland. "I want to go to Paris." "Okay," I said as I leaned down to kiss him. "Then you will.”

“You scare me, Gage."  Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.  "You tore me up, ripped me apart.  It took me a long time to put the pieces back together again." His thumb grazed along her cheek in a soft caress.  "I know baby, but I promise you, you have nothing to fear this time." "How do you know that?  How can you promise something like that?" "Because I would die protecting you.  I would slay dragons for you."  He fisted her hair and brought his face close.  "I would get on my knees and beg for you.”

“You scare me, Ryan Daley. Even more than those demons outside that scream for my death. How is it that I want what you want? I’ve spent an eternity feeling powerless. Love did that to me — robbed me of all control. I never expected to feel this way again. I don’t want to feel.’ ‘Neither did I,’ Ryan rasps, ‘because feeling anything at all was dangerous. If I let myself feel, then maybe I’d have to believe what everyone was saying — that Lauren was dead. But from the moment I laid eyes on “Carmen, you kept getting under my skin. At first, all you did was irritate the hell out of me, bailing me up that way outside my house, inviting yourself along for the ride when all I wanted was to be left alone. But that irritation turned into curiosity, which turned into something else, becoming this chain of, of … feeling that brought me here. I dropped everything for you. I veered left. And I’d do it again in a second. That’s what “feeling” does. It tells you you’re alive, it gives things … I don’t know, proper meaning. You’re still trying to maintain some veneer of independence? Toughness? Do words like that even apply to you? But I see through it, Mercy. I see through you. You’re not that different from me after all, under your armour. Crumbs, Mercy, that’s all I’m after. Just crumbs. It’s not a lot to ask for.”

“You scared the shit out of me last night, so forgive me if I don't want to hear fine as an answer." I rubbed my eyes, hoping it would keep the burning tears away. The warm water of the shower had finally calmed the tears, but the thought of Noah walking away brought them back. "What do you want to hear? That I'm exhausted? Terrified? Confused? That all I want to do is rest my head on your chest and sleep for hours, but that's not going to happen because you're leaving me?" "Yes," he said quickly, then just as quick said, "No. Everything but the last part." He paused. "Echo, how could you think I would leave you? How can you doubt how I feel?" "Because," I said as I felt the familiar twisting in my stomach. "You saw me lose it. You saw me almost go insane." The muscles in his shoulders visibly tensed. "I watched you battle against the worst memory of your life and I watched you win. Make no mistake, Echo. I battled right beside you. You need to find some trust in me ... in us." Noah inhaled and slowly let the air out. His stance softened and so did his voice. "If you're scared, tell me. If you need to cry and scream, then do it. And you sure as hell don't walk away from us because you think it would be better for me. Here's the reality, Echo: I want to be by your side. If you want to go to the mall stark naked so you can show the world your scars, then let me hold your hand. If you want to see your mom, then tell me that, too. I may not always understand, but damn, baby, I'll try.”

“You scour these Chinatowns of the mind, translating them like sutras Xuan Zhang fetched from India, testing ways return might be possible against these homesick inventions, trace the traveller's alien steps across borders, and in between discover how transit has a way of lasting, the way these Chinatowns grew out of not knowing whether to return or to stay, and then became home.”