“And the baby would never know what it meant to hate Barnwell so deeply that she couldn't help but return to it.”

“It was almost reckless how vulnerable she allowed herself to be; you couldn't help but hate her for doing that to herself, and at the same time hate yourself for giving in to it, and underneath all of that, despite your hate for her, couldn't help but love her.”

“The feeling of not being enough for someone, of knowing you would do anything for them and they not the same for you. I didn't want to, but I felt bad for her. I wanted to hate her, but I couldn't. I couldn't blame her for what she didn't know.”

“The Tralfamadorians tried to give Billy clues that would help him imagine sex in the invisible dimension. They told him that there could be no Earthling babies without male homosexuals. There could be babies without female homosexuals. There couldn't be babies without women over sixty-five years old. There could be babies without men over sixty-five. There couldn't be babies without other babies who had lived an hour or less after birth. And so on. It was gibberish to Billy.”

“I hate you' she said to me one afternoon. 'I really, really hate you.' Call me sensitive, but I couldn't help but take it personally.”

“So Bill thought she was being whiny. She couldn't help it.She was inches away from a breakdown."I hate this job.I hate this place. I hate this stupid solstice party and this stupid pheasant souffle-""Lucinda will be at the party tonight," Bill said suddenly. His voice was infuriatingly calm. "She happens to adore the Constances' pheasant souffle.”