“Flaccus, the sort of girl I hateIs the scrawny one, with arms so thinMy rings would fit them, hips that grate,Spine like a saw, knees like a pinAnd a coccyx like a javelin.But all the same I don't go inFor sheer bulk. I appreciateGood meat, not blubber, on my plate.”

“It would have broken my heart if it hadn't been so damn familiar. I guess I'd gotten numb to that sort of thing. I had heart-leather like walruses got blubber.”

“I weave the papers through the branches, in a long loop. Up and down, my knees bending. My arms above my head, like the girls I saw once in a painting in a cave. There is a rhythm to this, a keeping of time. I wonder if I'm dancing.”

“No,” he said. “No, I’ll never wonder what it would be like to have sex with someone else for the same reason I don’t want to kiss anyone else. You’re the only girl I’ve ever touched. And I feel like it was supposed to be that way. I touch you and my whole body … rings. Like a bell or something. And I could touch other girls, and maybe there would be something, you know, like maybe there would be noise. But not like with you. And what would happen if I kept touching and touching them, and then … and then, I tried to touch you again? I might not be able to hear us anymore. I might not ring true.”

“I like a woman with meat on her bones." She laughed. "My hips express their deepest appreciation, Major Winslow.”

“He was so sexy that my body went all hot when I saw him kind of like an erection only I’m a girl so I didn’t get one you sicko.”