“The world, dear Agnes, is a strange affair.”

“On-yez, where are you from, dear?' asked a black-slacked, frosted-haired woman whose skin was papery and melanomic with suntan. 'Originally.' She eyed Agnes's outfit as if it might be what in fact it was: a couple of blue things purchased in a department store in Cedar Rapids. Where am I from?' Agnes said it softly. 'Iowa.' She had a tendency not to speak up. Where?' the woman scowled, bewildered. Iowa,' Agnes repeated loudly. The woman in black touched Agnes's wrist and leaned in confidentially. She moved her mouth in a concerned and exaggerated way, like an exercise. 'No, dear,' she said. 'Here we say O-hi-o.”

“Agnes: Aw. My caterpillar never turned into a butterfly. Edith: That's a Cheeto. Agnes: Oh. [eats it”

“And I have again observed, my dear friend, in this trifling affair, that misunderstandings and neglect occasion more mischief in the world than even malice and wickedness. At all events, the two latter are of less frequent occurrence.”

“By the tits of Holy Agnes”

“I am painfully situated, Utterson; my position is a very strange--a very strange one. It is one of those affairs that cannot be mended by talking. ~Jekyll”