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“I was never going to amount to much anyway, but now, statistically speaking, there’s a better chance that some part of me will go on to greatness somewhere in the world. I’d rather be partly great than entirely useless.”
Unwinds didn’t go out with a bang—they didn’t even go out with a whimper. They went out with the silence of a candle flame pinched between two fingers.
“If you could harness the energy of my parents’ spite,” Hayden tells them, “you could power a small city for several years.”
The box is like a coffin. The box is like a womb.
Oh, there’s no question that you’re a loose cannon, but more often than not you’re aimed in the right direction.”
In a few minutes he hears her playing, the strains of her music pouring forth, filling Happy Jack with the upbeat, pulse-pounding soundtrack of the damned.
