“Jess couldn't stop spitting out words, because they were words like blades to hurt, and if she swallowed them, she'd be scraped hollow.”

“...sentences swallowed and sung back and swallowed all over again. She was made entirely out of words.”

“The words were on their way, and when they arrived, she would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain.”

“My uncle ordered popoversfrom the restaurant's bill of fare.And, when they were served,he regarded them with a penetrating stare.Then he spoke great words of wisdomas he sat there on that chair:"To eat these things," said my uncle,"You must exercise great care.You may swallow down what's solid,but you must spit out the air!"And as you partake of the world's bill of fare,that's darned good advice to follow.Do a lot of spitting out the hot air.And be careful what you swallow.”

“Her body was a prison, her mind was a prison. Her memories were a prison. The people she loved. She couldn't get away from the hurt of them. She could leave Eric, walk out of her apartment, walk forever if she liked, but she couldn't escape what really hurt. Tonight even the sky felt like a prison.”

“She'd read in novels of people who couldn't speak because their hearts were too full and she'd always thought, Not my black heart. But now she couldn't speak, because it was too much, whatever it was.”