"How many lives do we live? How many times do we die? They say we all lose 21 grams at the exact moment of our death. Everyone. And how much fits into 21 grams? How much is lost? When do we lose 21 grams? How much goes with them? How much is gained? Twenty-one grams. The weight of a stack of five nickels. The weight of a hummingbird. A chocolate bar. How much did 21 grams weigh?"

And these were a close tie;

"What does a scanner see? Into the head? Down into the heart? Does it see into me, into us? Clearly, or darkly? I hope it sees clearly, because I can't any longer see into myself. I see only murk. I hope for everyone's sake the scanners do better. Because if the scanners see only darkly, the way I do, then I am cursed and cursed again. I'll only end up dead this way, knowing very little, and getting that little fragment wrong too."

"The pain, so unexpected and undeserved, had somehow cleared away the cobwebs... I realized that I didn't hate the cabinet door, I hated my life - My house, my family, my backyard, my power motor. Nothing would ever change. Nothing new could ever be expected. It had to end... and it did. Now, in the dark world where I dwell, ugly things, and surprising things, and sometimes little wondrous things spill out in me, and I can count on nothing."