“Are you sure I can't mend a shirt or darn a sock for you in trade? Anything?""You can quit your yammerin' and carry this table downstairs so I can get back to minding my own business instead of messing around in yours.”

“Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" I snapped. "If I want to take my sister to my place of business, that's my own damned business and not any of your business." Was I overusing the word business? Fuck it. "So mind your own business.”

“Maybe you should mind your own business.''You are my business. My job. You are what I do.' I whipped around to face him. 'Well if I'm your job, your fired. You creep me out.”

“A doctor is advertised by the bodies he cures. My business is advertised by the minds I stimulate. And let me tell you that the book business is different from other trades. People don't know they want books. I can see just by looking at you that your mind is ill for lack of books but you are blissfully unaware of it!”

“Perhaps I can stay by the fire and mend your socks and scream if I hear any strange noises.”

“It's odd that you can get so anesthetized by your own pain or your own problem that you don't quite fully share the hell of someone close to you.”