“The poet dreams of the classroomI dreamedI stood up in classAnd I said aloud:Teacher, Why is algebra important?Sit down, he said.Then I dreamedI stood upAnd I said:Teacher, I’m weary of the turkeysThat we have to draw every fall.May I draw a fox instead?Sit down, he said.Then I dreamedI stood up once more and said:Teacher, My heart is falling asleepAnd it wants to wake up. It needs to be outside.Sit down, he said.”

“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.”

“I don’t think I will get married,” Polly said as she stood up. “I’m going to train to be a hero instead.”

“We were sitting there on the couch together, and he pushed himself up to go but then fell back down onto the couch and sneaked a kiss onto my cheek.“Augustus!” I said.“Friendly,” he said. He pushed himself up again and really stood this time, then took two steps over to my mom and said, “Always a pleasure to see you,” and my mom opened her arms to hug him, whereupon Augustus leaned in and kissed my mom on the cheek. He turned back to me. “See?” he asked.”

“Fuck, it's hot in here.” He put the guitar down, stood up, whipped his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Then he pulled off his belt like D'Artagnan drawing a sword...”

“Get a grip. You're pricklier than a feral cat," he said, sitting up."Too bad for you, I'm not in heat," I said, calming down.”