“...but I’d learned a long time ago that the worse things are, the more people lie about them.”

“Marcus looked down. “Ah, man! This was my favorite shirt. Who tore it?” he asked, trying to pull the ragged edges together.”

“Let’s just say, there’s not much of a moon out tonight,” Nose continued anyway, “but if Yale joined us, there would be.”

“You know,” he said, “P.S.S. Piss Camp.” “Yeah, I get it,” I said, “It’s just not funny.”

“My dad was nothing but a bingo call.”

“Should-haves solve nothing. It's the next thing to happen that needs thinking about.”

“The big guys who ran things didn't want you thinking or feeling. It slowed down production. They wanted you scared and working so you wouldn't bump up against the truth--life could be fun. Yup, they wanted you scared. They wanted you grim. They wanted you madly cranking out Barbie dolls or Post Toasties or Xerox, or they wanted you overworked and underpaid at teaching so you could at least feel smart, and they wanted you to keep having kids so you'd have to keep working at whatever job you were stuck in and not have time to think or feel or, if you did, you certainly wouldn't have time to do anything about it, or even get close to the big fun, the fun that belonged only to them. And then they wanted your kids to hop on the same treadmill.”