I Held Her, He Wanted To Say,

And Often The Worst Thing Wasn't The Victims--they Were Dead, After All, And Beyond Any More Pain. The Worst Thing Was Those Who Loved Them And Survived Them. Often The Walking Dead From Now On, Shell-shocked, Hearts Ruptured, Stumbling Through The Remainder Of Their Lives Without Anything Left Inside Of Them But Blood And Organs, Impervious To Pain, Having Learned Nothing Except That The Worst Things Did, In Fact, Sometimes Happen. (mystic River)

Grief, I Swear To God, Doesn't Live In The Heart. It Lives In The Senses. And Sometimes, All I Want To Do Is Cut Off My Nose So I Can't Smell Her, Hack My Fingers Off At The Joint.

Believe It Or Not, Marshal, I Believe In Talk Therapy, Basic Interpersonal Skills. I Have This Radical Idea That If You Treat A Patient With Respect And Listen To What He's Trying To Tell You, You Just Might Reach Him. (87)

You've Learned That Every Good Lie Is Threaded With Truth And Every Accepted Truth Leaks Lies.

Which Would Be Worse - To Live As A Monster, Or To Die As A Good Man?