“I've always been serious that way, trying to evolve to a more conscious state. Funny thing about that,though. You tweak yourself,looking for more love, less lust, more compassion, less jealousy. You keep tweaking, keep adjusting those knobs until you can no longer find the original settings. In some sense,the original settings are exactly what I'm looking for-a return to the easygoing guy i was before my world got complicated, the nice guy who took things as they came and laughed so hard the blues would blow away in the summer wind.”

“This is torture, torture, torture.Why is this so hard?? I survived whole days not talking to you before. What happened???I'm not as nice in the world today. I am scowly. I am trying to be good and not fussy, but frankly, this is less fun. And I am getting grumpy about the prospect of many, many more days like this ahead.”

“Ain't no sunshine when she's gone and this house just ain't no home anytime she goes away.”

“I've always wondered about Stop-and-Go guys. Do you like it if drivers wave and say thanks as they go past? Or is it better if they ignore you? Most times when I'm out in the car with Bull, I give a wave and a "thanks". Usually the guy with the sign stares at me as if I've just escaped from an asylum. So what's the right thing to do?''I've never met anyone like you before, Tiffany.''Really?''No - never.''Then you just haven't been to enough asylums.”

“The more you think about things, the weirder they seem. Take this milk. Why do we drink COW milk?? Who was the guy who first looked at a cow and said, 'I think I'll drink whatever comes out of these things when I squeeze 'em!'?”

“The more you find out about the world, the more opportunities there are to laugh at it.”

“Another voice rages. I hate that boy! I hate me! I am so incredibly stupid!A sunflower leans over the fence, smilingHow dare you!I rip off its head and throw it in the gutter.The smart thing to do is to keep going on. Walk away quickly and no one will know what I've done. But I can't move because my eyes are locked on the slowly opening front door - locked on Mrs Muir.'I'm sorry.' My tiny voice sounds so pathetically lame, but I've still got more lameness for her. 'I never do this sort of thing. I like sunflowers. I was just angry about something - nothing to do with you or the flower. I'm really, really sorry.''Oh, you are upset! Well, never mind'. Mrs Muir comes closer to me. 'Goodness, we all get cross. The main thing is: did it make you feel any better?''No. Yes. Maybe. A little bit.''Would you like to do another one? There's more out the back, too. You go for your life dear. I don't mind at all - they need a good pruning.”