“Sarah: "Not bad. You look almost human."Lena: "Thanks."Sarah: "I said almost."Lena: "Well, then, almost thanks.”

“Make-up? What happened? You look almost female.""Thanks. You look almost straight.”

“Different people were good at different things, Lena mused. Lena was good at writing thank-you notes, for instance, and Effie was good at being happy.”

“I'm my mother's first child, born when she was almost fourteen years old."Think of it," I said to Laura when I turned twelve. "I'm almost Mother Sarah's age when she was married."Laura looked at me, her squinty eyes even more narrowed. "You could have your own old man as a husband," she said."Shut up," I had said.And she had laughed.”

“Lena made a face. She almost never wore makeup; she didn't have to. "You know, it's not like we all sign a contract with Maybelline when we turn thirteen.”

“Your friend Mikey knew what my touch could do, but he didn’t tell me. He turned me into a murderer. Worse than a murderer.”“I think,” said Nick, “they call that manslaughter or wrongful death, don’t they? I mean, when it’s an accident or out of ignorance, or something.”Clarence turned to Nick, studying him with his Everlost eye. “You’re a lot smarter than you were back in the cage,” Clarence said. “You look better too. Back then you were a thing, now you’re almost a person.”“Thanks . . . but ‘almost’ is still ‘almost.’”“Yeah, well, we’re all almost something.”