“Bottom line: if you're on a beach and the ground starts shaking - and especially if that shaking lasts more than one minute - it's probably a subduction earthquake and there probably will be a tsunami. The shaking is all the warning you're going to get. Head for higher ground immediately and don't wait for any official notification.”

“You're going to be okay," I said, but my voice was wavering and I was shaking. "It's probably not even that bad, and you're just being a big drama queen as usual.”

“If you're here for four more years or four more weeks, you're here right now. I think when you're somewhere, you ought to be there. It's not about how long you stay in a place, it's about what you do while you're there, and when you go, is that place any better for your having been there?”

“Now come on. The dragon lady probably thinks I've ravished you by now.""You mean Miriam?""Who else do you know who spits fire and makes a grown man shake in his boots?""Well,if you're anything like that horny critter you're riding, I don't blame her for worrying," Willow replied, shaking her head with pretended disgust.”

“Disagreement is not necessarily a reason to head for Splitsville. In fact, a relationship without disagreement is probably too brittle to last. Some of the best human bonds are forged in the fire of disagreement.”

“The Clock on the Morning Lenape BuildingMust Clocks be circles?Time is not a circle.Suppose the Mother of All Minutes startedright here, on the sidewalkin front of the Morning Lenape Building, and the paradeof minutes that followed--each of them, say, one inch long--headed out that way, down Bridge Street.Where would Now be? This minute?Out past the moon?Jupiter?The nearest star?Who came up with minutes, anyway?Who needs them?Name one good thing a minute's ever done.They shorten fun and measure misery.Get rid of them, I say.Down with minutes!And while you're at it--take hourswith you too. Don't get me startedon them.Clocks--that's the problem.Every clock is a nest of minutes and hours.Clocks strap us into their shape.Instead of heading for the nearest star, all we dois corkscrew.Clocks lock us into minutes, make Ferris wheel riders of us all, lug us round and roundfrom number to number,dice the time of our lives into tiny bitsuntil the bits are all we knowand the only question we care to ask is"What time is it?"As if minutes could tell.As if Arnold could look up at this clock onthe Lenape Building and read:15 Minutes till Found.As if Charlie's time is not forever stuckon Half Past Grace.As if a swarm of stinging minutes waits for Betty Lou to step outside.As if love does not tell all the time the Huffelmeyersneed to know.”

“If people don't occasionally walk away from you shaking their heads, you're doing something wrong.”