“... That's why you're going directly back to the house. The last thing we need is for you to end up in jail again, and I'm quite certain disassembling another lady's hair falls under the category of assault.”

“You're falling for me like I'm falling for you. That's why you're pushing me so hard.”

“Why do we fall? So we can get back up again.”

“That’s the thing about falling. It doesn’t go on indefinitely, and it rarely ends well . . . plunge, plummet, pain. Even if you get straight back up, even when you regain your footing, after the fall nothing is ever quite the same.”

“Why of all the nerve! That settles it, young lady. Either you come back to town with me or I'm not budging from this house. And when your father gets backmhe's going to wish he'd kept right on going!”

“You and I are walking in the snow. "Why are you walking backwards?" I ask. You point in the direction we came from. "So they'll think that's where I'm going." You point to where we're going. "And that's where I'm from.”