“Myrnin, drive carefully. Understand?""Of course."He didn't.”

“Myrnin," she said. "He didn't show up at the rendezvous." "And? Dude's crazy, in case you didn't notice recently. He probally went of the chase butterflys or something”

“And before you ask, no, you're not driving, Myrnin. I remember the last time.''That accident was not my fault.''You were the only one on the road, and the mailbox actually didn't leap out in front of you. No arguments. You sit in the back, too.”

“Myrnin said softly. "And how is it that you do not understand that HERE, in THIS place, this girl belongs to me, not to you?”

“Claire found herself staring at his feet, which were in bunny slippers. Myrnin looked down. "What?" he asked. "They're quite comfortable." He lifted on to look at it, and the ears wobbled in the air. "Of course they are," she said. Just when she thought Myrnin was getting his mental act together, he'd do something like that. Or maybe he was just messing with her. He liked to do that, and his dark eyes were fixed on her now, assessing just how weirded-out she was. Which, on the grade scale of zero to Myrnin, wasn't much.”

“In the end, he had to admit, he didn't really understand her. He didn't understand women. He didn't understand men. He didn't even understand children very well. All he really understood, he thought, was himself and the rest of the universe. Neither anything like completely, of course, but both well enough to know that what remained to be discovered would make sense; it would fit in, it could all be gradually and patiently fitted together a bit at a time, like an infinite jigsaw puzzle, with no straight edges to look for and no end in sight, but one in which there was always going to be somewhere for absolutely any piece to fit.”