“I can see by your face that I'll never persuade you. And that's surprising, because usually you at least try to see my side."I can see your side," said Cecily. "I've got a much clearer view of it than you do, from over here on my side.”

“I guess he sees the mortified look on my face-Can I get a little bedside manner here?-because he awkwardly pats the sides of my arms and tried to smile.”

“The desire to never leave your side, the desire to never see you again. The desire to see your face asleep on the pillow beside my face and to see your eyes open in the morning when I lie next to you—just watching you, waiting for you to wake up.”

“Can you see the sunset real good on the West side? You can see it on the East side too.”

“Come here till I comb your hair, said Grandma. Look at that mop, it won't lie down. You didn't get that hair from my side of the family. That's that North of Ireland hair you got from your father. That's the kind of hair you see on Presbyterians. If your mother had married a proper decent Limerickman you wouldn't have this standing up, North of Ireland, Presbyterian hair.”

“I've got a better idea. I'll stay here and you can sit on my face while I eat my way to your heart.”