“I wasn't crying about mothers," he said rather indignantly. "I was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick on. Besides, I wasn't crying.”

“I wasn't crying for myself. I was crying for the innocents.”

“I am crying, he thought, opening his eyes to stare through the soapy, stinging water. I feel like crying, so I must be crying, but it's impossible to tell because I'm underwater. But he wasn't crying. Curiously, he felt too depressed to cry. Too hurt. It felt as if she'd taken the part of him that cried.”

“Oh my God, this can't be happening!" I cried."What?""Mopeds? Those are the wheels Pete gives us? I knew he was pissed off at me! It was all that time I spent in the hospital wasn't it? Or was it the wrecks? But I only tore up one car last time! And that wasn't my fault!”

“This sent me into an inappropriate laughing fit. I wasn't allowed to get angry, and I couldn't cry, so I laughed - a lot. (114)”

“I wasn't crying, my eyes were running. My eyes were running because there were pieces of zombies all over my toys. Jesus.”