“One of us needs to get laid.""Just one of us?""What are the odds of both of us getting laid?”

“Sometimes it is given to us. One moment of clarity. One word laid down, cold and clattering, beside another. Ribbon of wet stone.”

“I pulled the MG in beside him at the curb and he got in."This thing ain't big enough for either one of us," he said. "When you getting something that fits?""It goes with my preppy look," I said. "You get one of these, they let you drive around the north shore, watch polo, anything you want."I let the clutch in and turned right on Dartmouth."How you get laid in one of these?" Hawk said."You just don't understand preppy," I said. "I know it's not your fault. You're only a couple generations out of the jungle. I realize that. But if you're preppy you don't get laid in a car.""Where do you get laid if you preppy?"I sniffed. "One doesn't," I said."Preppies gonna be outnumbered in a while," Hawk said.”

“Not one of us gets all of the understanding we want, and few get as much as we need.”

“There is no plan, no future laid out for any of us beyond what we make for ourselves.”

“That was the big cure-all with these people, wasn’t it? Girl got you down? Get laid. No money? Get laid. Armageddon ensuing? Get laid a lot.”