“I work for a mom and pop business. They’re my mom and pop, and by work I mean they give me an allowance. But that’ll end soon. By age 30, in just a few months, they said it’d be time for me to earn a living. I guess that means they’ll want me to start mowing the lawn.
”

“Fuck You!' [Oskar said] 'Exuse me!' [His mom said] 'Sorry. I mean, screw you.' 'You need a time-out!' 'I need a mausoleum!”

“Mom. Mom, I... All I ever wanted was for you to smile at me. If you praised me just a little bit or touched my cheek...you'd make me so happy, I would cry.”

“My heart sinks. I guess I should be glad he doesn’t care, but I’m not. He’s supposed to care. Mom cares so much, it’s smothering; but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to do this, to check out. And suddenly I need him to care. I need him to give me something so I know he’s still here, still Dad.”

“Most kids start talking by age two. I didn't say a word until I was twelve. I was just angry and defiant I guess. My first word wasn't "Mom" or "Dad." It was "No.”

“Growing up, my parents never gave me as much as I wanted for my birthday. For example, one year I wanted a yo-yo, and they ended up giving me some wound up string. Gee, thanks, mom.”