“Thank fuck you're not a Yankees fan.""Don't use the Y-word. We're in mixed company.”

“Red Sox looked around Jane at the patient, “Your mind reading coming back?”“With her? Sometimes?”“Huh. You getting anything from anyone else?”“Nope.”Red Sox repositioned his hat. “Well, ah…let me know if you pick up shit from me, k? There are some things that I’d prefer to keep private, feel me?”“Roger that. Although I can’t help it sometimes.”“Which is why I’m going to take up thinking about baseball when you’re around.”“Thank fuck you’re not a Yankees fan.”“Don’t use the Y-word. We’re in mixed company.”

“You're my brother.""Those words don't mean anything where we're concerned. We aren't human. Their rules don't apply to us. Stupid laws about what DNA can be mixed with what. Hypocritical, really, considering. We're already experiments.”

“All literary men are Red Sox fans - to be a Yankee fan in a literate society is to endanger your life.”

“You're doing fucking awesome, Colt whispers in my ear and I can't help but smile at that. Only he would use the word 'fuck' at my mom's funeral.”

“I want to thank the Good Lord for making me a Yankee”