“I don't believe this," Morelli yelled. "I don't fucking believe this. What do you do, sit in bed at night and think about ways to fuck up my life?”

“I see you looking at my cookies,' my father said to Morelli. 'Don't even think about it. Go get your own cookies.”

“This is a little awkward," I said, "but my mother just ran over the rabbit.""Ran over?""As in roadkill. We're not sure what to do about it.""Where are you?""Giovichinni's, buying lunch meat.""And the rabbit?""Gone. He was with two other guys. They scooped him up off the road and drove away with him."There was a long silence on the phone. "I'm fucking speechless," Morelli finally said.”

“I plunked down on the couch beside him. "I don't have any accomplishments of any kind. I'm stupid and boring. I don't have any hobbies. I don't play sports. I don't write poetry. I don't travel to interesting places. I don't even have a good job." "That doesn't make you stupid and boring," Morelli said. "Well, I feel stupid and boring. And I wanted to feel interesting. And somehow, someone told my mother and grandmother that I played the cello. I guess it was me...only it was like some foreign entity took possession of my body. I heard the words coming out of my mouth, but I'm sure they originated in some other brain. And it was so simple at first. One small mention. And then it took on a life of it's own. And next thing, everyone knew.""And you can't play the cello." "I'm not even sure this is a cello."Morelli went back to smiling. "And you think you're boring? No way, Cupcake.""What about the stupid part?"Morelli threw his arm around me. "Sometimes that's a tough call.”

“Are we fighting?" I asked Morelli."No. Were discussing.""Are you sure?""Am I yelling?" Morelli asked. "Is my face purple? Are the cords on my neck standing out? Am I waving my arms around?""No.""The were not fighting.”

“Are you telling me you think Ranger's a superhero?'Think about it. We don't know where he lives. We don't know anything about him.'Superheroes are make-believe.'Oh yeah?' Lula said. 'What about God?”

“Bob had a dog buscuit stuck to his head. "How does he always get food stuck to him?" I asked Morelli. "I don't know," Morelli said. "It's a Bob mystery. I think stuff falls out of his mouth and he rolls in it. I'm not sure."-Morelli And Stephanie”