“He sees her like I do: at seventeen, twenty, thirty. Superimposed over the fourteen-year-old, he sees the woman she'll become.And he's staking claim.Over. my. Dead. Fucking. Body.And I can't die.”

“You can't tell a seventeen-year-old anything. They think they're immortal. They don't listen. Seventeen-year-olds have to see it for themselves.”

“It's too late. Seventeen-year-olds don't need fathers.Oh god. I'm thirty-four years old and I need a father. I can't even begin to think what my daughter needs.”

“I can't see how I'll make it a year this way," he said."It seems impossible, I know. But when we're old and doddering, this year will seem like a blink.”

“Do you really think he was flirting with me?""Let's see. He gave you candy you hate - I saw your face - and a CD of songs..." He looks at the CD. "All of these are, like, twenty years old at least. Figures. Oh, and he groped your face. Sounds like true love to me.”

“I'm staking out the bathroom to see if I can pick up chicks," he told her. "See? It worked.”