Top 15 Kate Coyle Quotes

If there are any doctors in the house, could we get Mr. Masterson some medical attention? It would be a shame if he were to pass away before he’s prosecuted for his crimes.

Bless him”—the Messiah raises a shiny copy of the New Apocalypse Edition of the Book of Frick—“for leaving us this miraculous book, this new edition of his Holy Word, available for only nineteen ninety-nine at Church of America megastores worldwide.

It’s not enough for the Believers to feel abandoned—they need to know they’ve been lied to. Otherwise someone down the line will try again.

If I ever had patience for believers who wanted to convince me of my own wickedness, I’ve officially run out of it.

How many simple pleasures I denied myself, because I thought that’s what goodness was. How stupid that it took me until the end of the world to realize it was something else entirely.

Everyone seems absurdly rich and very drunk. I notice with annoyance that there’s no adherence to modesty here: I see short skirts and plenty of cleavage, bare necks adorned by jewels. I guess if you have enough money, the Church will overlook a selection of your sins.

Harp gives me a look.
“What?”
“You are terrible at lying, Viv. Embarrassingly bad. Have I taught you nothing?”

I will never understand why Believers cling to this kind of language, this relentless empty optimism, plus all! those! exclamation! points!

I’m starting to understand how little purchase the truth actually affords us in this world.

We could conceivably slow this destruction down, but it would require huge overarching changes in the structure of our society—the kind of change we will never achieve so long as we remain distracted by imaginary acts of God.

What? Why the fuck are you smiling?"
"Because you're so like Winnie, it's actually spooky. You both clearly possess the take-no-shit gene.

I’ve always believed Frick to be detached from reality, but I thought he was just a megalomaniac, a manipulator, a con artist. Now I begin to slowly understand. He’s far more dangerous than any of those things. He’s a true Believer.

I wonder if this is what bravery is: adrenaline plus love plus absolute stupidity.

But I can’t justify the act to myself, no matter how much I like making out with the boy I’d be trying to save. That would be playing by Believer rules—telling myself that violence and the threat of it is okay, if that’s what it takes to get you what you want. “For God so loved the world,” says the Book of Frick, “that he sent us guns with which to protect our homes and women.”

Behind him shines the blinking neon of a casino: