“What is it like.... what is it like to be dead?' Evan looked at him with his dull, unblinking blue eyes, ' I don't know, what is it like...... to be alive?”

“Zombies, deadheads, corpsicles. What's the difference? They don't care. They don't have feelings to hurt.”

“I guess the message in the songs is that is shouldn't matter if someone moves differently, or looks differently, or talks differently. Is biotic differently. What matters is that we're all thinking beings, and if we are thinking beings we ought to be able to find common ground somewhere.”

“Adam's hot Pheebs! Admit it girl. That body is like some kind of happy experiment. It's like he was manufactured in a nympho scientist's secret laboratory”

“Love, she thought, he'd typed "love" just as she had. A multifacedted word, love, there probably wasn't another word in this or any other language that had so many shades and degrees. She knew that he loved her and she loved him, just as she loved Adam and Adam loved her. But with love, theirs or his, it was always a question of degree, and what one was willing to do to express that degree.”

“They were an odd pair- but odd pairs were what kept life interesting.”

“His eyes did not track when they were talking, and when he blinked, which wasn't often, she could count to three before his eyelids touched.”