“This is what I know. I look like my father. My father disappeared when he was seventeen years old. Hannah once told me that there is something unnatural about being older than your father ever got to be. When you can say that at the age of seventeen, it's a different kind of devastating.”
“It's too late. Seventeen-year-olds don't need fathers.Oh god. I'm thirty-four years old and I need a father. I can't even begin to think what my daughter needs.”
“And secondly, losing your virginity doesn't make you a slut. I slept with your father when I was your age. . . ''Mia,' my father roared from the other room.'What? So we're going to lie to her now,?' she shouted back.He walked in. 'What if your mother finds out? Or my mother?''Robert, it was twenty years ago. I don't think there's much they can do.'He looked at me, pointing a finger. 'No sex for you.' He used the Soup Nazi's accent from Seinfeld.”
“I met this boy here who I knew as a kid and his mum left him with a pedophile for two weeks when he was eight years old and I'm presuming you know everything there is to know about Jonah's father, and that my father is dead, and my mother hasn't been around for years, and God knows Jessa's real story. So what I'm saying here, Sergeant, is that we're just a tad low on the reliable adult quota so you have no right to be all self-righteous about what Chaz did and if you're going to go around not talking to him when his only crime was wanting me to have what he has, then I think you're going to turn out to be a bit of a dud and you know something? I'm just a bit over life's little disappointments right now. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
“Once, last year, I started going through my sins and Father Stephen said, "Oh, it's you, Josie." Can you believe it? He recognised me by my sins. I'm so boring that I can't even change my sins from term to term.”
“My father took one hundred and thirty-two minutes to die.I counted.It happened on the Jellicoe Road. The prettiest road I’d ever seen, where trees made breezy canopies like a tunnel to Shangri-La. We were going to the ocean, hundreds of miles away, because I wanted to see the ocean and my father said that it was about time the four of us made that journey. I remember asking, 'What’s the difference between a trip and a journey?' and my father said, 'Narnie, my love, when we get there, you’ll understand,' and that was the last thing he ever said.”
“But it was definitely a car trailing me and quickly I prepared myself for a great dash. I began quickening my step and when it stopped alongside me I could stand it no longer."My father's a cop and he'll kill you," I screeched without looking."No, he's a barrister," I heard Michael Andretti say in a calm voice, "and he'll kill you if you don't get into this car.”