“Lisa's friendship was less of a choice than a fact of life. It worked out well - kind of symbiotic, actually. I beat up anyone who messed with her, and she made sure my homework got done. Fair trade, right? Honestly, if not for Lisa's constant nagging, I'd probably still be crouched in our kindergarten sandbox eating glue and playing Neferet demons.”

“It was your first time?"Her head snapped up, eyes stabbing her sister."Of course it was," Lisa backtracked at once, and then said, "Well, Fanny must have been wrong then. Or perhaps it is different for everyone."Suzette shook her head with disgust. "If you, who have known me all my life and know I have not been keeping company with men before this, doubts me, why would he not? He probably thinks I have been with half the royal navy.""Why would he think that? We live nowhere near the near the coast," Lisa said with confusion.Suzette glared at her and then shifted to get off the bed,crawling around her to do so."Where are you going?" Lisa asked, standing up."For a walk.""But I was going to read to you to cheer you up," Lisa protested."I don't want to be read to," Suzette said grimly as she slipped her shoes on."I could tell you a story," Lisa offered."No.""I could sing,or-""I want to be alone.”

“Lisa Smith-Batchen, the amazingly sunny and pixie-tailed ultrarunner from Idaho who trained through blizzards to win a six-day race in the Sahara, talks about exhaustion as if it's a playful pet. 'I love the Beast,' she says. 'I actually look forward to the Beast showing up, because every time he does, I handle him better. I get him more under control.' Once the Beast arrives, Lisa knows what she has to deal with and can get down to work. And isn't that the reason she's running through the desert in the first place-to put her training to work? To have a friendly little tussle with the Beast and show it who's boss? You can't hate the Beast and expect to beat it; the only way to truly conquer something, as every great philosopher and geneticist will tell you , is to love it.”

“Well, now I felt horrible. I'd marred perfectly good ass cheeks for no reason. It was as if I'd sneezed on the Mona Lisa.”

“That was the damnedest thing about these demonic collaborator types. Even though they didn't work out and practice, they still got to run faster than we dedicated roadsters who actually sweated and strained for our ability to haul ass. Jerks.”

“Walk this way."I don't want to walk HER WAY. She waddles more than walks and strangles me in the wake of stinky perfume. Sure I'd kill less brain cells sniffing glue.”