“Oh, my Margaret--my Margaret! no one can tell what you are to me! Dead--cold as you lie there you are the only woman I ever loved! Oh, Margaret--Margaret!”

“Oh! that look of love!" continued he, between his teeth, as he bolted himself into his own private room. "And that cursed lie; which showed some terrible shame in the background, to be kept from the light in which I thought she lived perpetually! Oh, Margaret, Margaret! Mother, how you have tortured me! Oh! Margaret, could you not have loved me? I am but uncouth and hard, but I would never have led you into any falsehood for me.”

“Margaret: Can I - can I just say something for the future? Leo: Yeah.Margaret: I can sign the President's name. I have his signature down pretty good. Leo: You can sign the President's name? Margaret: Yeah. Leo: On a document removing him from power and handing it to someone else? Margaret: Yeah! Or... do you think the White House Counsel would say that was a bad idea? Leo: I think the White House Counsel would say it was a coup d'etat! Margaret: Well. I'd probably end up doing some time for that. Leo: I would think. And what the hell were you doing practicing the President's signature? Margaret: It was just for fun.”

“Margaret looked up at him from where she sat by the window."Oh, Brother Gregory, what's wrong with your hand""I'm just scratching it; it itches.""Really, is it red?""No, it's just a bite. You gave me a flea.""I don't have fleas, Brother Gregory," insisted Margaret."Everyone has fleas, Margaret. It's part of God's plan.""I don't. I wash them off.""Margaret, you haven't any sense at all. They just hop back. You can't wash enough to keep them off.""I do.""Aren't you afraid your skin will come off? It could, you know. That's much worse than fleas." Brother Gregory spoke with an air of absolute certainty."Everyone tells me that. It hasn't come off yet.""Margaret, you're too hardheaded for your own good. Now take for your next sentence, 'Fleas do not wash off.'""Is this right?" She held up the tablet, and Brother Gregory shook his head in mock indignation."I despair of you, Margaret. Flea is not spelled with one e--it's spelled with two.”

“How shall I ever tell Aunt Shaw?' she whispered, after some time of delicious silence. 'Let me speak to her.' 'Oh, no! I owe it to her, - but what will she say?' 'I can guess. Her first exclamation will be, "That man!" ' 'Hush!' said Margaret, 'or I shall try and show you your mother's indignant tones as she says, "That woman!" ”

“Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret. I just told my mother I want a bra. Please help me grow God. You know where.”