“A tiredness crept over her that would shame narcoleptics. She could sleep anytime, anywhere, in any position. No hyperbole. I mean, we'd be at the dinner table, and I'd be in mid-sentence when I'd detect a fresh, eerie silence in the room, the kind that didn't sound to my blind man's ears like somebody listening. I'd just carry on with dinner, and hope that she'd made it to bed this time.”
“If I didn't taste like dinner, I'd kiss you right now." "If you didn't taste like dinner, I'd kiss you back.”
“I'd like to be in Hell in time for dinner.”
“I hoped what little dinner I'd eaten wasn't something my new baby-rich body didn't like. I didn't want to throw up all over the bad guys, or then again maybe I did. It would certainly be distracting.”
“That execution will take place here." She runs her fingertips over the table beneath her. "On this table. I thought it would be interesting to show you.""I knew what would happen when I came here," I say. "It's just a table. And I'd like to go back to my room now.”
“If I didn't swim my best, I'd think about it at school, at dinner, with my friends. It would drive me crazy.”