“Are you sure you weren't adopted?""Mom would like to think so, but it was a natural birth, so her memory's real clear.”

“Mom! This is Haruhi! We'll adopt her someday so don't forget!~Hikaru and Kaoru”

“Real, she imagined later on, was something else; it had nothing to do with things you could touch. Real was being seen, noticed, acknowledged, and later remembered. Real was people thinking about you when you weren't in the room. If others thought about you, then you must be more than a made-up dream. You need other people to be real, she decided. Otherwise you might just be a speck, an atom, inventing an elaborate story. It seemed like a paradox, but it must be so. She knew other people were real by thinking about them. Her thinking of her parents and her brothers, her school friends, were proof that they were real. They were both outside and in her head. But how could she be sure she was in anyone's head?”

“Mom!" Becca stared at her. "You think—you think I'm dating Michael?"Her mom stared back at her, obviously thrown. "You're not?"This would be hilarious if her mom didn't look so serious."Oh my god," cried Becca. "Are you kidding? Michael is the last person I would ever—oh my god. I wouldn't go out with him if someone paid me. Ugh, that's just—""You know I can hear you, right?" called Michael.”

“And Mom doesn't like anyone cutting her flowers, so I cut up her magazines instead. Do you like it?”

“But why can't everyone have the memories? I think it would seem a little easier if the memories were shared. You and I wouldn't have to bear so much by ourselves, if everybody took a part."The Giver sighed. "You're right," he said. "But then everyone would be burdened and pained. They don't want that. And that's the real reason The Receiver is so vital to them, and so honored. They selected me - and you - to lift that burden from themselves.”