“Lord love you,” Ms. Eulalie said, “but you tell lies like Ms. Franny sings: hard to listen to and even harder to believe.”

“What about study hall? Shouldn't I go to the library? "What for, Ms. Lord?" Mr. anderson said. "You're with me”

“You know, Ms. Morgan, that was your mother you just hammered," Mr. Solomon said.”

“The two of you are getting downright chatty, aren't you, Ms. Lane? When did you last see him? what else did he tell you?I'm asking the questions tonight.If an illusion of control comforts you, Ms. Lane, by all means, cling to it.”

“What the bloody hell are you, Ms. Lane?”

“It thought about the magic that happens when you tell a story right, and everybody who hears it not only loves the story, but they love you a little bit, too, for telling it so well. Like I love Ms. Washington, in spite of myself, the first time I heard her. When you hear somebody read a story well, you can't help but think there's some good inside them, even if you don't know them.”