Quotes from Scott Heim

It was a light that shone over our faces, our wounds and scars. It was a light so brilliant and white it could have been beamed from heaven, and Brian and I could have been angels, basking in it. But it wasn't, and we weren't.

He spoke so slowly, cobwebs could have formed between his words.

It was Brian's blood, and for some reason I knew it was pure. No other man I'd held in my arms -and now, not even I- had blood this pure.

I hate this stinking little butt crack of a town!

The room was darker and smelled of evergreen, as though my mother had been dreaming of trees.

What Kate Bush is is simple: She is a classy and elegant Woman who offers us a chance to be more understanding of what might be happening in the mind of someone other than ourselves. Nurturing, insightful, graceful, and wise; you could do no better than listening to her perspective. If Modern Music has an aristocracy, Kate Bush is much more than The Queen. Kate Bush is the archetypal Mother.

The girl was holding out her hand, bit I could only give a pathetic shrug. I had nothing to give her. I'd finally faded away.

How in the world can you think a queer is cute? I mean, you can tell he's a freak. You can just tell." I advised Zelda that if she didn't shut up, I'd gouge out her eyes and force her to swallow them.

Defenestration," I said. "'The act of throwing someone through a window.

The girl was holding out her hand, but I could only give a pathetic shrug. I had nothing to give her. I'd finally faded away.

This song came on that sounded unlike anything I had ever heard: an aggressive drum machine pattern, unusual-sounding electronic noises, and of course, on top of it all, that voice. It struck me immediately, so warm and beautiful: The song was "Running Up that Hill (A Deal with God)." It was like a soundtrack to the evening. 

His voice sounded vaguely grandfather like, as if his brain were crowded with knowledge!

There was something deranged and distinctly midwestern about a station that programmed The Exorcist three days prior to Christmas.

That was us.' I told him we were the kids who'd caused the Burneys' deaths.

Us, on the other hand, they can't kill. But we have to live with the memory of what they do. And really, it's what they do to us that's worse.

No other man I'd held in my arms--and now, not even I--had blood this pure.

The room was darker and smelled of evergreen, as though my mother had been dreaming of trees.