“Do you feel better?' he asked.'I feel fine,' she said. 'There's nothing wrong with me. I feel fine.”

“I wonder if I shall ever see her again, and I realize that I scarcely care. I can feel the sheets beneath me, and the cold air on my chest. I feel fine. I feel absolutely fine. I feel nothing at all.”

“You're not me. You can't feel like I feel.""I can feel.""No you can't. You just choose not to feel or something and everything's fine.""It's not fine. It's just not so bad.”

“I bit my lip. “If what you feel is wrong then what I feel for you is doubly wrong.”“Do two wrongs make a right?” he asked.“No, not usually,” I said.“Not usually,” he repeated. “Does that mean you’re willing to try?”Siva and Sloane”

“Because I hate the ocean, theme parks and airplanes, talking with strangers, waiting in line. I'm through with these pills that make me sit still, are you feeling fine? Yes, I feel just fine.”

“Hello, Max," he said quietly, searching my face. "How do you feel?"Which was a ten on the "imbecilic question" scale of one to ten. Why, I feel fine, Jeb," I said brightly. "How about you?"Any nausea? Headache?" Yep. And it's standing here talking to me.”