I'm very emotional. I do feel stuff, for better or worse.

Dogs, dogs, go away, let me live another day.

"Hello, Max," he said quietly, searching my face. "How do you feel?" Which was a ten on the 'imbecilic question' scale of one to ten. "Why, I feel fine, Jeb," I said brightly. "How about you?" "Any nausea? Headache?" "Yep. And it's standing here talking to me."

I'm a girl who has been tamping down her emotions and keeping them tightly guarded her whole life. And that works really well for me. [...] And now I felt like my shell had a dangerous crack in it. Without much more effort on his part, it would split wide open and my enormous river of emotions would gush out - the bad and the good. It was pretty much the scariest thing I'd ever thought of.

Hi, Max," she said, pushing her shades up onto her curls. "I hope your wearing sunscreen," i said, “your gonna have hella wrinkles by the time your ten.” “Want some daiquiri?” she offered, pointing at a blender. “Is it traitor flavored?” I asked.

Who ya gonna call?" "Ghostbusters!" "That phrase is ruined forever.

I offered to pee on him, but they said no