“Reynie's fce fell. 'It's not funny, Kate.'For a moment - a fleeting moment - Kate looked desperately sad. 'Well, of course it's not funny, Reynie Muldoon. But what do you want me to do? Cry?”

“So what's your team called?" asked Kate, twisting her legs into a pretzel-like configuration, "We're called the Winmates because we're inmates who win." Kate looked back and forth at Reynie and Constance, searching their expression for signs of delight. "You gave yourselves a name?" asked Constance. Now it was Kate's turn to be baffled. "You didn't? How can you have a team without a name?”

“Now listen, we need to be quiet as mice. No, quieter than that. As quiet as . . . as . . .” “Dead mice?” Reynie suggested. “Perfect,” said Kate with an approving nod. “As quiet as dead mice.”

“Please, Kate. Suspend your dislike of me for a few moments and listen to what I have to say. It makes sense.""I don't dislike you. It's an oversimplification.”

“Love isn't found in words, Kate. It's found in quiet moments, a look, a sigh, a smile, a gladness." She sighed. "And very often, it's shown with sacrifice.”

“Kate: I wish there was a cookbook for life, you know? Recipes telling us exactly what to do. I know, I know, you're gonna say "How else will you learn, Kate."Therapist: mm. No, actually I wasn't going to say that. You want to guess again?Kate: No, no, go ahead.Therapist: Well what I was going to say was, you know better than anyone, it's the recipes that you create yourself that are the best.”