“When I asked my boss if he would refer me to someone in London where I was going next, he replied, "If you are really good, then we would not want you to leave. If you are bad, then we would not refer you. If you are just so so, why should we bother?" So he did not do anything. Luckily his boss, a Swiss manager, felt compelled to notify his London colleagues that I was going to be in town. And thus I got hired.”

“That's stupid." I stopped to look at him. "why would you want everyone assuming something that isn't true?" "Why should I care?" "So you can ask someone you're interested in to go to the dance with you," I replied, not expecting his lack of concern. "I just did.”

“You should come with me.""What? I'm not going anywhere with you!""I think you should," he replied."And why would I do that? You just told me you're following me!""No, I didn't. I said someone was following you. I was following them.”

“Dat means you like me.   A lot.” “Yeah, it does.”   Captain obvious. “So dat means I’m Mr. Bryn.” “Whatever you say.” “Oh.   Whatever I say?   You want me to be da boss?   Because dat’s not a problem at all.   I like to be da boss of you.” “No,” I said, putting on and zipping up my shorts, “you are not the boss of me.   I’m the boss of me and you.”He frowned.   “Dat’s not fair.   I want to be da boss of something.” “You can be the boss of Buster.” “No, not da dog.   Dat’s not da boss of anything, really.” “Fine.   You can be the boss of … I don’t know.   Kissing.” Bodo stopped putting on his shirt, his eyes taking on a special gleam, making me almost regret I had said it.”

“How can a person deal with anxiety? You might try what one fellow did. He worried so much that he decided to hire someone to do his worrying for him. He found a man who agreed to be his hired worrier for a salary of $200,000 per year. After the man accepted the job, his first question to his boss was, "Where are you going to get $200,000 per year?" To which the man responded, "That's your worry.”

“Robin: When you do marry, who will you marry?Maria: I have not quite decided yet, but I think I shall marry a boy I knew in London.Robin(yells): What? Marry some mincing nincompoop of a Londoner with silk stockings and a pomade in his hair and face like a Cheshire cheese? You dare do such a thing! You - Maria - if you marry a London man I'll wring his neck! (...) I'll not only wring his neck, I'll wring everybody's necks, and I'll go right away out of the valley, over the hills to the town where my father came from, and I won't ever come back here again. So there!(...)Maria: Why don't you want me to marry that London boy?Robin(shouting): Because you are going to marry me. Do you hear, Maria? You are going to marry me.”