“Fine, but I’m not ripping the head off a voodoo chicken or drinking anything disgusting. (Grace)”

“they walked with a pedatory grace.... one of them ripped off their hood and said, "my name is Tally Youngblood and is a special circumstance"....”

“I do have some leftover chicken and pasta. (Grace)And wine?...That’s acceptable (Julian)Look, buster, I’m not your cooking wench. Mess with me and I’ll feed you Alpo. (Grace)”

“The president, the secretary of state, the businessman, the preacher, the vendor, the spies, the clients and managers—all walking around Wall Street like chickens with their heads cut off—rushing to escape bankruptcy—plotting to melt down the Statue of Liberty—to press more copper pennies—to breed more headless chickens—to put more feathers in their caps—medals, diplomas, stock certificates, honorary doctorates—eggs and eggs of headless chickens—multitaskers—system hackers—who never know where they’re heading--northward, backward, eastward, forward, and never homeward—(where is home)—home is in the head—(but the head is cut off)—and the nest is full of banking forms and Easter eggs with coins inside. Beheaded chickens, how do you breed chickens with their heads cut off? By teaching them how to bankrupt creativity.”

“I’m taking off my shoes.’’ ‘‘Fine. Shoes off.’’ ‘‘And my pants.’’ ‘‘Don’t push it, Claire.”

“You see how good I’m being for you? I haven’t ripped out any hearts or anything.”