“If you're fighting moodiness and depression you don't want to hang around a bunch of other moody and depressed people.”

“The man is moody as hell.”“I am not moody—”“Yeah, bro.” Kenji puts his utensils down. “You are moody. It’s always ‘Shut up, Kenji.’ ‘Go to sleep, Kenji.’ ‘No one wants to see you naked, Kenji.’ When I know for a fact that there are thousands of people who would love to see me naked—”

“And people are moody, dude. You gotta get used to living with people.”

“You're manic-depressive and you're manic-depressive too and you, you're definitely manic-depressive, girl. And you over there in the corner, you're just plain fucking depressive.”

“But on my worst days, which are rare and of which this is one, I can get down so low that the bottom seems to be where I belong. I don't even want to look for a way up. I suppose surrender to sadness is a sin, though my current sadness is not a black depression but is instead a sorrow like a long moody twilight.”

“Hello, Professor McGonagall,” said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air.“Teaching,” said Moody.“Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.“Yep,” said Moody.“Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said Professor McGonagall weakly.”