“We've turned off all the lightsin the living roomto make hand shadows.We've got thisbig flashlightaimed at the wall.I make the silhouette of my handinto a duck.Robin makes his into a rabbit.Now my duck kisses his rabbitAnd-POOF!- it turns intoa turkey.And for some reasonthis strikes usas hysterically funny.But you probably had to be there.”

“Making the decision to leave Valve strikes me as right up there with turning down the throne to Narnia, but then call me an idealist, and I guess I probably wouldn't want to spend my whole life making new hats for Team Fortress 2 either.”

“I found that every single successful person I’ve ever spoken to had a turning point and the turning point was where they made a clear, specific, unequivocal decision that they were not going to live like this anymore. Some people make that decision at 15 and some people make it at 50 and most never make it at all.”

“Lolita,” he said, turning my book over in his hands. His eyes widened over the pink-lipped mouth on the cover, then handed it to me. Our fingers brushed, and a warm current coursed through them. My heart thundered so loud he could probably hear it.“So,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “You’re a smuthound with daddy issues?” The corner of his mouth turned up in a slow, condescending smile.I wanted to smack it off his face. “Well, you’re quoting it. And incorrectly, by the way. So what does that make you?”His half-smile morphed into a whole grin. “Oh, I’m definitely a smuthound with daddy issues.”

“As the sound a duck makes, I feel qualified to give medical advice. My wisdom will cost you some bread, but it’s got less mayonnaise than the medical community.”

“Hi," I whisper. He peels off my hands and turns toward the aisle. "Please don't make this any harder than it already is," he whispers back.”