“- I like my shirts.- It's plaid.- There are no rules for shirts. Plaid is good.- Plaid is bad. Although, if you went with a Scottish plaid in wool, it might be okay.- I'm not dressing like some damned highlander, Mercedes.- And the lumberjack look is okay?- You don't like my shirt?”

“No. I'm not buying a shirt."I could buy you a shirt."I don't need you to buy me a shirt."Mercedes pulled him over to the nice GQ-dude who worked the department. "Tell him he needs a new shirt."I don't need a new shirt."Sir, you need a new shirt.”

“The shirt seemed heavy until he saw there was another shirt inside it, the sleeves carefully worked down inside Jack’s sleeves. It was his own plaid shirt, lost, he’d thought, long ago in some damn laundry, his dirty shirt, the pocket ripped, buttons missing, stolen by Jack and hidden here inside Jack’s own shirt, the pair like two skins, one inside the other, two in one.”

“I think you'll make a great Congressman, Sam Porter. The people of New York couldn't ask for anything better.New Jersey."What do you mean, New Jersey?"I live in Jersey. That's my home state."But what about people of New York? Don't we deserve honest representatives, too?" It was one thing when he was going to be her Congressman, but he was going to be someone else's Congressman, not hers?New York has good representatives."But not as good as you, Sam. We deserve the best."Move to Jersey.”

“The rear door was black, the driver's side door was red, and the hood was sunshine-yellow. If Henry Ford and Picasso had gone out on a bender, that car was what the hangover would have looked like.”

“Life is all about risks, taking chances. It doesn't matter how safe and comfortable you want things to be. They never are. - Brooke Hart”

“By the time she yanked on her old jeans and a battered plaid flannel shirt, she felt almost normal. Calm, as she plugged in the coffee pot. But the nightmare was still very much on her mind, because it wasn’t a dream…It was a memory.”