“I'm tired of eating your family's lousy, tasteless recipes," Dad said."Tasteless recipes? My grandmother's rolling in her grave!""It's from indigestion.”

“...the Statue of Liberty's got this invitation: 'Give me your tired, your poor, your reeking homeless--''Huddled masses,' said Ira. 'Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.'...Okay, fine. So like everybody in the old countries says, 'Hey, I'm a huddled mass,' and they all wanna come over.”

“I turn to our father, searching for an ally. "So Dad, is it legal for Bronte to date out of her species?"Dad looks up from his various layers of pepperoni and breadless cheese. "Date?" he says. Apparently the idea of Bronte dating is like an electromagnet sucking away all other words in the sentence, so that's the only word he hears."You're not funny," Bronte says to me."No, I'm serious," I tell her. "Isn't he like... a Sasquatch or something?""Date?" says Dad.”

“My grandmother used to say that twisting paths always cross again," he told her. "And whose paths are more twisted than ours?”

“I mean, it's like we all get our raw materials from our families―but it's up to us whether we build bridges or bombs.”

“As your older brother, it's my sacred duty to save you from yourself."She brings her fists down on the table, making all the dinner plates jump. "The ONLY reason you're fifteen minutes older than me is because you cut in front of the line, as usual!”

“The way I see it, it's got nothing to do with all of that. It has to do with love...A person don't got a soul until that person is loved. If a mother loves her baby--wants her baby--it's got a soul from the moment she knows it's there. The moment you're loved, that's when you got your soul.--Diego”