“He sat up, going still. “Am I wearing a wife-beater, Lizvetta?” He gaped down. “Oh, come on!”

“When he heard there was nothing to eat, he sat down and wept… “Why did I ever wake up!” he cried.”

“He was just hungry, Papa. He's going to die.He's going to die anyway.He's so scared, Papa.The man squatted and looked at him. I'm scared, he said. Do you understand? I'm scared.The boy didn't answer. He just sat there with his head down, sobbing.You're not the one who has to worry about everything.The boy said something but he couldn't understand him. What? He said.He looked up, his wet and grimy face. Yes I am, he said. I am the one.”

“I am unlike most other people because I began, not in the body of my mother, but in the brain of my father. He invented me, you see. He sat down one day and dreamed me up. -- The Girl With Borrowed Wings”

“He molded himself next to me in my bed; he was dressed in black like some ‘summer’ Ninja; black wife beater shirt; black jeans and ever so quiet and panther-like in his movements…”

“Has he not got a wife back wherever he comes from? Is there no wife to say, ‘You must not go off and visit library ladies’?”