“Oh, God. God, isn't that perfect? He's Dad. He's Dad with a layer of nerd. Solid, steady, chipping away so patiently, you don't even know you've had your shields hacked down until you're defenseless. It's the type." "You're not in love with a type, you're in love with a man," Penny corrected. "Or you're not.”

“He's solid."You're fractured."He's hopeful."You're hopeless."He's always there."You're half there."He's faithful."You're so not."He's giving."You're afraid to give."He's honest."You lie all the time."He's loving."You don't know how to love.”

“You know you've got problems when your head is hanging over the toilet, puking up your dinner, and what you're thinking of is your dad. And how he thinks you're not pretty.”

“Brenda, do you know God loves you? He really does. To Him, you're perfect, absolutely perfect. You always have been.”

“Even though you're not my type, gender wise, you're certainly my type, person-wise.”

“There's a girl, Dad."He smiled a bit. "A girl.""She kinda hates me, and I kinda...""Love her?""I don't know. I don't think so. I mean...how do you know?"His smile grew wider. "When you're talking about her with your old dad because you don't know what else to do.”