“I heard Your voice from on high. "I am the food of the fully grown. Grow and you will feed on me. And you will not change Me into you, like the food of flesh eats. But you will be changed into Me.”

“Don't leave yet," he said, his voice hoarse. "Let me do something. Let me feed you. Hold you. Rub your shoulders. Change your oil. Anything, please.”

“Fine. You stay here. I shall return when I’ve found food. But when you all faint from hunger later don’t think you can just feed on me.”

“I'd really rather die than eat your food and listen to you call me love.”

“Eating – overeating – saved me. It comforted me when I was at the mercy of grown-ups who didn't know how to give what I needed. Food was something to which I had ready access, and with it I cleverly fashioned a survival mechanism that pulled me back from the edge of insanity. – a young MacGuyver of angst and junk food.”

“I love it when you look at me like that,' he murmured, his fingers kneading into the plump flesh of her cheeks, 'How am I looking at you?' she managed. 'Like you want to eat me alive, but you don't have a spoon.”