“How many times do we all have to do this? Get up, go to school, again? Before everyone admits it's a crap idea?”

“It's not how many times you fall. And it's not how many times you get back up. It's about how much money you have to pay people to admit that the whole incident didn't even occur to begin with.”

“So what if I don't learn algebra?''Someday schools will be open again,' Mom said. 'Things will be normal. You need to do your work now for when that happens.''That's never going to happen,' Jon said. 'And even if schools do open up somewhere, they're not going to open up here. There aren't enough people left.' 'We don't know how many people are like us, holed up, making do until times get better.''I bet whoever they are, they aren't studying algebra,' Jon said.”

“How many of us suffered to death?How many of them gained more wealth?How many of us mourned?How many of them earned?How many times we suffered such a pain?How many times they will do this again?They are Cruelbut…We don’t have to be.”

“How many times have I failed before? How many times have I stood here like this, in front of my own image, in front of my own person, trying to convince him not to be scared, to go on, to get out of this rut? How many times before I finally convince myself, how many private, erasable deaths will I need to die, how may self-murders is it going to take, how many times will I have to destroy myself before I learn, before I understand?”

“Do you have any idea how many lives we must have gone through before we even got the first idea that there is more to life than eating, or fighting, or power in the Flock? A thousand lives, Jon, ten thousand!”