“So you're always honest," I said."Aren't you?""No," I told him. "I'm not.""Well, that's good to know, I guess.""I'm not saying I'm a liar," I told him. He raised his eyebrows. "That's not how I meant it, anyways.""How'd you mean it, then?""I just...I don't always say what I feel.""Why not?""Because the truth sometimes hurts," I said."Yeah," he said. "So do lies, though.”

“I'm not saying I'm a liar,' I told him. He raised his eyebrows. 'That's not how I meant it, anyway.''How'd you mean it, then?'I was digging myself a hole here, and I knew it. But still, I tried to explain myself. 'It's just... I don't always say what I feel.''Why not?''Because the truth sometimes hurts,' I said.'Yeah,' he said. 'So do lies, though.”

“Because the truth sometimes hurts," I said. Yeah," he said. "So do lies, though.”

“I growled and then slapped him."Hey!" His hand pressed to his cheek."You always say that when I slap you," I said."I think it's a problem that you know what I say when you slap me," he said. "That's not the kind of intimacy I'm looking for.”

“How old are you, anyway?' she asked, squinting at him.There was a pause. At last he said, 'Why do you want to know?'I just wondered,' said Winnie.All right. I'm one hundred and four years old,' he told her solemnly.No, I mean really,' she persisted.Well then.' he said, 'if you must know, I'm seventeen.'Seventeen?'That's right.'Oh,' said Winnie hopelessly. 'Seventeen. That's old.'You have no idea,' he agreed with a nod.”

“You know," I told him,"if you don't know how to eat a cupcake, that's nothing to be ashamed of."Now he did smile. "I know how to eat a cupcake.""Sure you do.""I do," he said. "I just don't want one of those.""Yeah? Prove it.”