“The crusts, or at least what he assumed was crusts, were already rolled out flat rounds."How many do we need?" Because he could eat one of these all on his own."One for Uncle Slayde and Jenny. One for me and Maggie. One for…Who do you share with?""I think I can probably eat the whole thing by myself." He patted his belly. "What do you think?"Christian looked at him. "You could prob'ly eat a whole elephant.”
“I don't know—” the right corner of his lip quirked upward, “—I can eat a lot. I could probably eat you and not think twice about it.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, tilting his shoulders closer to me. “Do you think you're up for that kind of a challenge, little girl?”“Bring it on.”
“I knew you could be naive, but I never thought you were stupid. He's an Eye, Sophie. They kill our kind. What part of that don't you understand?"All I could do was blink at him."And this one is worse than any of the others," he continued, "because he's technically one of us. He's a traitor to his own race, and you just keep letting him in and pushing...everyone else away." He looked up at me, what I saw in his eyes made me flunch. Cal was so good at hiding his emotions that I'd never realized...God, how could I have been such an idiot?”
“Well, I never been to much school, you understand, but it seems to me that you're assuming something you shouldn't assume... that God sees the world like you do; one thing at a time, from just one spot. Seems to me that he's supposed to be everywhere, know everything. ...Think about that; he knows what you're feeling, how you're hurting. Feels my pain, your pain like it was his own. Hell son, the question isn't how God could care about just one person; question is, how could he not?”
“Tell me what you do with the food you eat, and I'll tell you who you are. Some turn their food into fat and manure, some into work and good humor, and others, I'm told, into God. So there must be three sorts of men. I'm not one of the worst, boss, nor yet one of the best. I'm somewhere in between the two. What I eat I turn into work and good humor. That's not too bad, after all!'He looked at me wickedly and started laughing.'As for you, boss,' he said, 'I think you do your level best to turn what you eat into God. But you can't quite manage it, and that torments you. The same thing's happening to you as happened to the crow.''What happened to the crow, Zorba?''Well, you see, he used to walk respectably, properly - well, like a crow. But one day he got it into his head to try and strut about like a pigeon. And from that time on the poor fellow couldn't for the life of him recall his own way of walking. He was all mixed up, don't you see? He just hobbled about.”
“Why don’t we do the whole friends with benefits thing?” he asks seriously.“Because I don’t think I’d enjoy having the benefits you give me removed” I answer back not missing a beat.“Just friends it is then” he says not perturbed and starts eating his lunch.”