“Jane-Sweetie, we've talked about your weight-" my mother began.I'm only eight years old," I said. "How about I promise to be anorexic later?”

“Tell me about your family," I said. And so she did. I listened intently as my mother went through each branch of the tree. Years later, after the funeral, Maria had asked me questions about the family - who was related to whom - and I struggled. I couldn't remember. A big chunk of our history had been buried with my mother. You should never let your past disappear that way.”

“Enough about my beauty," Buttercup said. "Everybody always talks about how beautiful I am. I've got a mind, Westley. Talk about that.”

“I am running into a new year and the old years blow back like a wind that I catch in my hair like strong fingers like all my old promises and it will be hard to let go of what I said to myself about myself when I was sixteen and twenty-six and thirty-six but I am running into a new year and I beg what i love and I leave to forgive me.”

“- Is recycling to do with global warming?- Need you ask?- Well, I only ask because we've been recycling for twenty years or so, and no one was talking about global warming back then.”

“You're such a young king. I barely remember being your age.""Then clearly we're talking about how old you are, not how young I am.”