“Stories are wonderful, enjoyable, and scrumptious things. In the old days, they were served on thin plates called pages. You ate them with your eyes. And they didn't go down to your tummy, like normal food. No, they went into a dream machine inside your head.”

“The old white man didn't look into your eyes, he looked clear through your eyes, and straight to the inside of the back of your head. 'Instead of runnin from pain, which is the natural thing in life, in boxing you step to it, get me?”

“When you read a book, the story definitely happens inside your head. When you listen, it seems to happen in a little cloud all around it, like a fuzzy knit cap pulled down over your eyes.”

“It's like one of those dreams that changes you. You keep some of the dream forever, and you know things down deep inside yourself, because it happened to you, but when you go looking for details they kind of just slip out of your head.”

“Odd that I couldn’t catch any of your dream,” Bones went on. “Normally your dreams are like background music to me.”

“If you are going to go to the trouble of choosing healthy food for your plate, shouldn't you also choose healthy people for your life?”