“Rena noticed me watching it pass. 'You think they don't got problem?' Rena said. 'Everybody got problem. You got me, they got insurance, house payment, Preparation H.' She smiled, baring the part between her two upper teeth. 'We are the free birds. They want to be us.”

“You don't understand me. I'm a teenager. I've got problems!”

“Some may call me a vigilante. I think i've got problems to fix.”

“You want to play house, you got to have a job. You want to play very nice house, very sweet house, then you got to have a job you don't like. Great. This is the way ninety-eight-point-nine per cent of the people work things out, so believe me, buddy, you've got nothing to apologize for.”

“So, we’ve got a problem,” I said.“What?” Lend yelled.“We’ve got a problem!” I shouted.“No, I heard that. I mean, what’s the problem now?”

“He's got hands so long and white and dainty I think they carved each other out of soap, and sometimes they get loose and glide around in front of him free as two white birds until he notices them and traps them between his knees; it bothers him that he's got pretty hands.”