“Sometimes I feel like I've got my nose pressed up against the window of a bakery, only I'm the bread.”

“Sometimes I'm afraid I've got it all wrong...and then I know I do...and then I feel small like I'm supposed to.”

“I thought I was going to sweat five years before I'd feel like this.""I wanted it as much as you did. I've just got a hell of a poker face" I smiled, pressing my lips against his.”

“Not quite. I'm thinking of a queer feeling I sometimes get, a feel that I've got something important to say and the power to say it—only I don't know what it is, and I can't make any use of the power.”

“He was asking too many questions and he was asking them too quickly. They were stacking up in my head like loaves in the factory where Uncle Terry works. The factory is a bakery and he operates the slicing machines. And sometimes a slicer is not working fast enough but the bread keeps coming and there is a blockage. I sometimes think of my mind as a machine, but not always as a bread-slicing machine. It makes it easier to explain to other people what is going on inside it.”

“Besides, I always feel safer when I've got words against my heart.”