“We're so different. You're an intellectual. I'm an idiot.""Don't say that," I yelled. "You're not an idiot, you stupid idiot.”

“So between you and me," I tell Justine on the phone that night, "we're either bitchy or stupid.""Oh God," she moans. "Everyone thinks I'm an idiot.""Thanks!”

“Froi heard Zabat's voice echo over and over again throughout the gorge. Wonderful. The gods had found a way of multiplying the idiot's voice.”

“You blame me for this, don't you?" he says."I don't need to. You're doing a better job.”

“I think we're made up of all these different pieces and every time someone goes, you're left with less of yourself.”

“I miss the Stella girls telling me what I am. That I'm sweet and placid and accommodating and loyal and nonthreatening and good to have around. And Mia. I want her to say, "Frankie, you're silly, you're lazy, you're talented, you're passionate, you're restrained, you're blossoming, you're contrary." I want to be an adjective again. But I'm a noun. A nothing. A nobody. A no one.”

“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?”