The problem with cell phones is that you can’t slam them down into a cradle when you hang up. Your only option is to throw them, and if you do, they just skitter across the floor and crack their case. It’s not satisfying at all. I close my eyes and bend down to pick up the pieces.

I can't trust the people I care about not to hurt me. And I'm not sure I can trust myself not to hurt them, either.

I'm afraid that whatever I touch is spoilt by the contact." "I'm not scared of being spoiled," Val said.

She sat in the dew-damp grass and ripped up clumps of it, tossing them in the air and feeling vaguely guilty about it. Some gnome ought to pop out of the tree and scold her for torturing the lawn.

It's not that I want you to be a certain way--don't you want a boyfriend?" "Why bother with that? Let's find incubi." "Incubi?" "Demons. Plural. Like octopi. And we're much more likely to find them"--her voice dropped conspiratorially--"while swimming naked in the Atlantic a week before Halloween than practically anywhere else I can think of.

No," said Luis, "You can't date the Lord of the Night Court." "Well, I'm not, he dumped me." "You can't get dumped by the lord of the night court." "Oh, yes, you can. You so completely can.

The row of dolls watched her impassively from the bookshelf, their tea party propriety almost certainly offended.