“My clothes are made of monosodium glutamate and hexachlorophene. My food is made of polyester, rayon and lurex. My rug lotions contain vitamins. Do my vitamins feature cleaning agents? I hope so. My brain is gimmicked by a microprocessor the size of a quark, and costing ten pee and running the whole deal. I am made of — junk, I’m just junk.”

“Vitamins ruined my life. Not that there was much left to ruin, but still. I know that blaming vitamins for my horrible life sounds strange. After all, vitamins are supposed to keep people healthy. Also, they're inanimate objects. But thanks to them I was stuck in the Jackson Center Mall watching my father run around in a bee costume.”

“Are you up? Dressing? (Astrid)No. I’m pissing on your rug. What do you think I’m doing? (Zarek)I’m blind. For all I know you really are peeing on my rug, which is a very nice rug incidentally, so I hope you’re kidding. (Astrid)”

“In my opinion, there's no condition in life that can't be ameliorated by a dose of junk food.”

“I want to be sitting in front of my computer, where you can press a button to block out your junk mail. These two are my junk mail.”

“This is your war now.' I despised myself for the cheesy sentiment, but what else did I have?'Some war,' he said dismissively. 'What am I at war with? My cancer. And what is my cancer? My cancer is me. The tumors are made of me. They're made of me as surely as my brain and my heart are made of me. It is a civil war, Hazel Graze, with a predetermined winner.”