“I got it, Go said. Go home, fuck her brains out, then smack her with your penis and scream, There's some wood for you bitch!”

“She was at a cash register, screaming at a customer. She was, in fact, calling this customer a bitch. I touched her arm and said, “I have to go now.” She laid her hand on my shoulder, squeezed it gently, and continued her conversation, saying, “Don’t tell the store president I called you a bitch. Tell him I called you a fucking bitch, because that’s exactly what you are. Now get out of my sight before I do something we both regret.”

“Go home.' Montag fixed his eyes upon her, quietly. 'Go home and think of your first husband divorced and your second husband killed in a jet and your third husband blowing his brains out, go home and think of the dozens of abortions you've had, go home and think of that and your damn Caesarian sections, too, and your children who hate your guts! Go home and think how it all happened and what did you ever do to stop it? Go home, go home!' he yelled.”

“Let's go into the woods and take some pictures," you said. "I found this old camera.""Let go!" you screamed. "Let go of me!""You have to let go," the counselor told me. "Let go of what you're holding inside."I can touch the picture but it's not your face.I can touch the screen but it's not your face.Let go.”

“But then Klaudia's lips curled ino a conniving smile."Actually, Aria, I'm going to fuck your boyfriend. Tonight."Aria started at her. It felt like Klaudia had just punched her in the throat. "Excuse me?"Klaudia scooted closer to Aria. "I'm going to fuck your boyfried," she said again -in textbook-perfect English. "Tonight. And there's nothing you can do about it.”

“Go home to your wife. Go bury her.”