“i look back at my paper but it doesn't make any sense. the wriitng doesn't look like mine and yet i know i wrote it. what is wrong with me today? panic rises.”

“despair threatens to overwhelm me.i have no life. my friends only tolerate me, they don't really like me. i'm just useful to have around. if i wasn't here they wouldn't really miss me. i am not important, not popular enough.”

“You look like my every fantasy come to life,’ he whispered, his voice deepening.‘How?’ she whispered back.‘Wicked. Abandoned. And…’She heard his hesitation, was intrigued by it. ‘And what?’‘Here,’ he admitted. ‘Now. On my bed after too long. Waiting for me to make love to you over and over again.”

“Curious," it said. "What you call your decent self doesn't dare look me in the eye! What a mistake people make who say that the man who won't look you in the eye is not to be trusted! As if mere brazenness were a sign of honesty; really, the theory of decency is the most amusing thing in the world.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this!’ she declared. ‘You’d been positively insulting about the fact that I knew nothing about Sicily—and just because I wanted to fill in a few gaps in my knowledge you make it sound like I had some kind of master-plan to ensnare you!’‘You didn’t need a master-plan, Kate,’ he told her starkly. ‘Your eyes ensnared me from the first moment I looked into them.”

“It didn’t occur to me that I was glistening with sweat and wearing a bikini top until they turned off the bikes, pulled off their helmets and turned to scope me out. To make my own personal cliché perfect, Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me blasted through the radio. I winced – I must look like a white-trash princess from hell, basking outside my trailer in a bikini to outdated butt rock.”

“Leaning her silly, beautiful, drunken head on my shoulder, she said, "Oh, Esther, I don't want to be a feminist. I don't enjoy it. It's no fun.""I know," I said. "I don't either." People think you decide to be a "radical," for God's sake, like deciding to be a librarian or a ship's chandler. You "make up your mind," you "commit yourself" (sounds like a mental hospital, doesn't it?).I said Don't worry, we could be buried together and have engraved on our tombstone the awful truth, which some day somebody will understand:WE WUZ PUSHED.”