“Aren't there going to be any refreshments?" Tharamn interrupted. "I always think better with a little snack to keep me going.""I'm with you there," said Grishmak. "Bring on the nibbles!""There aren't any!" Cressida snapped. "This is all far too important, and besides, once you lot start easting, it'll only turn into a party." "Can't say I have a problem with that myself," said Tharaman. "What about you, Grishy?""None at all. Bit of food and fun helps the boring bits along, in my opinion. Let's call a chamberlain and order some grub.""No!" Cressida insisted. "We all need to concentrate, and I for one find it difficult to think one you and Tharaman start cracking bones and spitting out gristle.""I never spit out gristle!" said Tharaman in miffed tones. "A terrible wast of protein. It just needs a little extra chewing, that's all."Thirrin had watched the exchange in silence, but now she sat forward in her chair. "Actually I wouldn't mind a sandwich myself."Cressida looked at her thunderously.”

“Come on," I said. "You think you're going to ask the wrong question and--what?--the Spencers are going to make you disappear?""I can't rule it out," she said."Actually, I think you can.""We'll see. I'll call you after, let you know how it goes. If you don't hear from me, well, you do what you think is right. If I disappear, maybe you can find me."Her voice had turned careless and light, but I thought I could still hear an undertone of gravity in it."If you can't find me," she said, "I wouldn't mind being avenged.(p159)”

“Isn't it sad, growing up? You start off like my Charlie. You start off thinking you can kill all the baddies and save the world. Then you get a little bit older, maybe Little Bee's age, and you realize that some of the world's badness is inside you, that maybe you're a part of it. And then you get a bit older still, and a bit more comfortable, and you start wondering whether that badness you've seen in yourself is really all that bad at all. You start talking about ten per cent."Maybe that's just developing as a person, Sarah."I sighed and looked out at Little Bee Well," I said, "maybe this is a developing world.”

“I must have been in the car for a long time because eventually my sister found me there. I was chain-smoking cigarettes and crying still. My sister knocked on the window. I rolled it down. She looked at me with this curious expression. Then, her curiosity turned to anger."Charlie, are you smoking?!"She was so mad. I can't tell you how mad she was."I can't believe you're smoking!"That's when I stopped crying. And started laughing. Because of all the things she could have said right after she got out of there, she picked my smoking. And she got angry about it. And I knew if my sister was angry, then her face wouldn't be that different. And she would be okay."I'm going to tell Mom and Dad, you know?""No, you're not." God, I couldn't stop laughing.When my sister thought about it for a second, I think she figured out why she wouldn't tell Mom or Dad. It's like she suddenly remembered where we were and what had just happened and how crazy our whole conversation was considering at all. Then, she started laughing.But the laughing made her feel sick, so I had to get out of the car and help her into the backseat. I had already set up the pillow and the blanket for her because we figured it was probably best for her to sleep it off a little in the car before we went home.Just before she feel asleep, she said, "Well, it you're going to smoke, crack the window at least."Which made me start laughing again."Charlie, smoking. I can't believe it."Which made me laugh harder, and I said, "I love you."And my sister said, "I love you too. Just stop it with the laughing already.”

“Hold on a second. I can talk,' I say. 'Guys.' I look at all three of them in turn. 'One thing that they do in here is give you a lot of time to think. I can't explain it; once you come in, time just slows down-''Well, you don't have any interruptions, that's probably it-''Also I think the clocks are a little off-'I wave my hand. 'Point is, you have time to think about how you got here...”

“A woman at one of mother's parties once said to me, "Do you like reading?" which smote us all to silence, for how could one tell her that books are like having a bath or sleeping, or eating bread - absolute necessities which one never thinks of in terms of appreciation. And we all sat waiting for her to say that she had so little time for reading, before ruling her right out for ever and ever.”