“I want to screw him on the table and make him eat in my bed.”

“If I said I wouldn’t toss him out of my bed for eating crackers, would you leave me alone? (Grace)Maybe. What else wouldn’t you toss him out of bed for? (Selena)Eating greasy grimy gopher guts? (Grace)”

“I want to explain everything to him, show him that it’s really not as screwed up as it all sounds, but then I remember that it is.”

“I can't. I'm not a good influence on him. I keep getting him shot. I swear too much, I don't brush my teeth every time I go to bed, and I never remember to eat a balanced breakfast. You want someone with culture. Poise. A lack of gunfire.”

“As when my little son John offendeth: if then I should not whip him, but call him to the table unto me, and give him sugar and plums, thereby, I should make him worse, yea should quite spoil him.”

“There's some folks who don't eat like us," she whispered fiercely, "but you ain't called on to contradict 'em at the table when they don't. That boy's yo' comp'ny and if he wants to eat up the table cloth you let him, you hear?”