“Maybe he's not college-smart, but he's smart in a way they can't teach.”

“Some are nice and some aren't. Some are smart, and others are about as bright as a wet match in a dark cave. In other words, pretty normal.”

“Well, you missed out on some important protocol, Ella. You can't stand between a Texan and his power tools. We like them. Big ones that drain the national grid. We also like truck-stop breakfasts, large moving objects, Monday night football, and the missionary position. We don't drink light beer, drive Smart cars, or admit to knowing the names of more than about five or six colors. And we don't wax our chests, ever.”

“Does he behave in rude or improper ways?""He's a Bowman. We don't know any better.”

“The way I was brought up ‘he needed killing’ is an airtight alibi.”

“Lately I've become so damned distracted that I can't make a decision about anything. I can't think clearly. I've got knots in my stomach, and constant pains in my chest, and whenever I see you talking to any man, or smiling at anyone, I go insane with jealousy. I can't live this way. I—" He broke off and stared at her incredulously. "Damn it, Evie, what is there for you to smile about?""Nothing," she said, hastily tucking the sudden smile back into the corners of her mouth. "It's just… it sounds as if you're trying to say that you love me.”

“He slitted his eyes open and squeezed them shut again as he saw her finger intruding deeper into the bottle. "Grows..."he forced himself to continue, "until the fruit is ripe.""They do? That is the cleverest...a pear in its own little...oh no.""What?" Marcus asked through clenched teeth."My finger's stuck."Dumbfounded, he looked down at the sight of Lillian tugging on her imprisoned finger."I can't get it out," she said."Just pull at it.""It hurts. It's throbbing." "Pull harder.""I can't! It's truly stuck. I need something to make it slippery. Do you have some sort of lubricant nearby?""No.""Not anything?""Much as it may surprise you, we've never needed lubricant in the library before now.”