“What makes people between the ages of eleven and fifteen such mean jerks? I’d rather be ninety-five than thirteen again.”

“How many strokes does it take?""One. Two. Three.""Four. Five...""Six.""Seven. Eight.""Nine.""What if Daddy. Ten. Finds out what I did. Eleven. To his innocent little girl?""Twelve.""This is what you do to me. Feel it. Thirteen.""Fourteen.""Do What he says, Toni. Fifteen. Come."His heated lips curved against her ear. "Fifteen it is."~Drake”

“How tall are you, Constantine?” I asked, unable to hide my tears.Constantine narrowed her eyes at me. “How tall is you?”“Five-eleven,” I cried. “I’m already taller than the boys’ basketball coach.”“Well, I’m five-thirteen, so quit feeling sorry for yourself.”

“And what does it mean -- dying? Perhaps man has a hundred senses, and only the five we know are lost at death, while the other ninety-five remain alive.”

“Just because I’ve been gone from this country for most of my life doesn’t mean I understand it any less. When I was fifteen I left Jamaica. I knew that I was a lesbian then and, because of what I looked like, I was an out lesbian. It was hard for me. It was hard for the thirteen years I was in England, for various reasons, and it’s going to be difficult here as well. I don’t anticipate anything being easy. But I’d rather suffer the chance of someone accosting me for being a dyke than suffer the emotional violence I’d do to myself if I wasn’t honest about who I am.”

“I’d rather play with small quantities of large people than large quantities of small people.”