“Wow. I feel like in this riot of people, I have been kicked in the stomach, but by the giddy police. Forget about the need for oxygen. My mouth wants to go back to the place it just left.”

“I bit back a gag. “Gods, your breath is kicking.” I pulled the blade free, revolted by the sucking sound. “For real.”Cocking its head to the side, it blinked. “Kicking?”“Yeah.” Spinning around, I planted my left foot and kicked out, catching the fury in the stomach. It flew back, smacking into the tree. “See? Kicking.”

“...If you'd like to go back in there and try kicking him, I recommend aiming upward and a bit to the left--”

“People always talk about good time rock and roll, Chuck Berry or whatever, like this liberating force for feeling good. But what I need in my life is to be liberated into feeling bad. Not sad. I have plenty of sad. What I need is a place where I can spray anger in sparks like a gnarled piece of electrical cable. Just be mad at stuff and soak in the helplessness. ”

“The idea is that for ten minutes, we forget that we have feelings. And we forget about protecting ourselves or other people and we just say the truth. For ten minutes. And then we can go back to being lame.”

“Packard rolled his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. "I ast you not to start a riot with my boys and now I hear you kicked one of my stagehands in the nuts. You got anything to say about that?" Daisy said, "Never happened.”