“He called you pretty...That's practically an insult, the way youlook right now...You're much more than beautiful.”

“There's a kind of luck that's not much more than being in the right place at the right time, a kind of inspiration that's not much more than doing the right thing in the right way, and both only really happen to you when you empty your heart of ambition, purpose, and plan; when you give yourself, completely, to the golden, fate-filled moment.”

“You're worth so much more than anything I can give you. If you can't believe that right now, believe in me.”

“Well," I said finally, knowing he was waiting, "you make me laugh."He nodded. "And?""You're pretty good-looking.""Pretty good-looking? I called you beautiful.""You want to be beautiful?" I asked him."Are you saying I'm not?”

“You're fucked. You thought you were going to be someone, but now it's obvious you're nobody. You haven't got as much talent as you thought you had, and there was no Plan B, and you got no skills and no education, and now you're looking at forty or fifty years of nothing. Less than nothing, probably. That's pretty heavy. That's worse than having the brain thing, because what you got now will take a lot longer to kill you. You've got the choice of a slow, painful death, or a quick, merciful one.”

“I say, thirteen is too many dogs for good mental health. Five is pretty much the limit. More than five dogs and you forfeit your right to call yourself entirely sane.Even if the dogs are small.”