“I’m just not interested.”“Do you have ovaries?” Jacob asked. I shot him a look. “Yes.”… “Then how are you not interested.”

“Do you have ovaries?" Jacob asked. I shot him a look. "Yes" He slid down the back of the couch and sat beside Brittany. "Then how are you not intrested?”

“Yes, interest! The worm of interest. Are you surprised? No? Yes? One conclusion I have reached here after a year in my cell is that the only emotion people feel nowadays is interest or the lack of it. Curiosity and interest and boredom have replaced the so-called emotions we used to read about in novels or see registered on actors' faces. Even the horrors of the age translate into interest. Did you ever watch anybody pick up a newspaper and read the headline PLANE CRASH KILLS THREE HUNDRED? How horrible! says the reader. But look at him when he hands you the paper. Is he horrified? No, he is interested. When is the last time you saw anybody horrified?”

“I’m pretty sure you just made him that much more interested in you,” Guy explains. “Some guys like it rough.” He grins at Hope. “I know I do.”

“Whenever I’m interested in something, I know the timing’s off, because I’m always interested in the right thing at the wrong time. I should just be getting interested after I’m not interested any more.”

“And oh, Claudia, Claudilla, ask me to do something -something that I can do. Do not ask me to forget you or to be indifferent to you. Do not ask me to have no interest in how you pass your time. But if we are separated, set me a task, something that will be a daily link with you.”