...she opened the door very slowly and carefully, half hiding behind it, as if badly frightened of what might be waiting for her on the other side. And considering that it was me waiting, this showed rare common sense.

For the first time I could remember, I felt weak, woozy and stupid— like a human-being. Like a very small and helpless human-being.

I nodded with genuine synthetic sympathy.

This was just no fun. I wanted my brain back.

Getting yelled at by a furious woman should be treated as a semiformal occasion.

I often find myself in situations where it seems to me like everyone else has read the instruction book

I mean, really: what kind of person could possibly dislike me?