“It’s important that my socks match. I don’t want anything that distracts from my sock puppet show. Quiet, now! Show starts in ten seconds.”

“I didn't need to be rescued.""Sorry, but my sword outranks your…" she glanced at my hand, "sock puppet.”

“I don’t have a photograph, but you can have my footprints. They’re upstairs in my socks.”

“I sure hope Wrigley doesn't start making socks, because then I wouldn't be able to refuse if someone offered me some socks. I sure do love chewing on socks. They add lots of flavor while I'm biting my toenails.”

“He stared at Avery's socks and felt an odd sense of wonder. Socks were so normal. So mundane. How could someone who pulled on socks in the morning be a serial killer? Socks were not hard or dangerous. Socks were funny; foot mittens, that's what socks were. They made a knobbly hinge of your toes and became comical sock-puppets. Surely anyone who wore socks could not truly be a threat to him or anyone else?”

“I believe that if you don’t want to do anything, then sit there and don’t do it, but don’t expect people to hand you a corn beef sandwich and wash your socks for you.”