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Kindle Notes & Highlights
You had to make rules for yourself, and you had to follow them, or you really were lost.
Even though he rarely wanted the walk, he was always glad for it once he got going, if only because it got him out of the house.
He longed to stab and hack his way out of a desperate situation: to hold off bullies, or wolves, or maybe a mountain lion.
“Oh, Dennis. I never said you wanted her. You wanted this. You wanted to smash your marriage and your job and your life, all of it, into a thousand shiny little pieces.” “Why would anyone want that?” “Why do little kids break windows?” his soon-to-be ex-wife asked. “Children love the sound of smashing glass. Firebugs love a book of matches.”
“That’s probably why it’s moving. The knife wounded it so it couldn’t go anywhere. Now it’s getting better.”
You know why it looks that way, don’t you? Dennis Lange asked himself. It’s not just age. That tree was fertilized with poison. The choir director was poison.
