“I don't go out with strangers," I said."Good thing I do. I'll pick you up at five.”

“What if I can't forget you?I'll burn your name into my throat,I'll be the fire that'll catch you.What's so good about picking up the pieces?What if I don't even want to?”

“Actually, I came because I have a last-minute invitation. My friend Erika Gill is having a big party tomorrow night, one of those all-out birthday bashes that girls like. Want to go?"----------------------------------------"No. Sorry.""Since it's a catered thing, at a restaurant, I'll pick you up at- what did you say?""I'm sorry. I can't do it."----------------------------------------"You're busy?""I just can't do it," I said.”

“All right, then, I'll go to hell' -and tore it up.It was awful thoughts, and awful words, but they was said. And I let them stay said; and never thought no more about reforming. I shoved the whole thing out of my head; and I said I would take up wickedness again, which was in my line, being brung up to it, and the other warn't. And for a starter, I would go to work and steal Jim out of slavery again; and if I could think up anything worse, I would do that, too; because as long as I was in, and in for good, I might as well go the whole hog.”

“You know," Kavita begins, "I think I can pick out my own furniture. I am an artist after all. I do have some taste.""No you don't." Nick plainly states. "No man has taste. Besides, I didn't pick it out, she did. Wives are good for things like that.”

“Finch picked up one of the ancient fax-mags and brought it over to me. "I don't need anything to read," I said. "I'll just sit here and eavesdrop along with you.""I thought you might sit on the mag," he said. "It's extremely difficult to get soot out of chintz.”