Tears are like rain to the Devil: they fill his black heart with sharp, ugly blossoms of laughter.
Grief is a little like being in a fresh snowfall. A light, cold curtain falls between you and the rest of the world. 
It's a big wide world, after all, and Mattawa, Washington, perched on the edge of it, is somewhere in between Nowhere and Nothing At All.
Any time evil comes into a place it is because someone give it permission. 
I thought at first, even knowing you could not die, it seemed you could not live.
