“The Howard Hughes thing hadn’t actually sounded like such a bad deal until about...oh, eight thirty-five this morning. Something about having his ex carry him to the bathroom and help him wash his balls just took all the fun out of becoming an eccentric recluse.”

“me: just don't ask about his forty-three ex-boyfriends, okay? or ask him about why he's carrying around an axe.mom:...me: i'm kidding about the axe part.”

“Actually, it’s my younger brother who has me ticked, but since you brought up the boyfriend thing, take my advice; Be the black widow. Find a guy, have fun with him, then eviscerate him in the morning before he can brag about it to his friends. (Chrissy)”

“Hugh returned from his trip, and days later I still sounded like a Red Chinese asking questions about the democratic hinterlands. "And you actually saw people smoking in restuarants? Really! And offices, too? Oh, tell me again about the ashtrays in the hospital waiting room, and don't leave anything out.”

“Sounds good. What sort of fun did you have in mind?” I rubbed my nose against his. “It’s kind of like putting together toys on Christmas morning. You have to insert dowel rod A into slot B until it fits firmly….” “Oh, yes?” “…and then you move things around until you break something and make a big mess.”

“Something she knew she did not have the right to ask him about. But she wished—oh, how shewished—that when he was ready to face his fears, she could be the one to help him.”