Are you currently at your house?" he asked. "Um, no," I said. "That was a trick question. I knew the answer, because I am currently at your house.

If we'd put them in a vase in the living room, they would have been everyone's flowers. I wanted them to be my flowers.

You used," he said, and then took a sharp breath, "to call me Augustus.

C'mon Pudge. I'm teasing. You have to be tough. I didn't know how bad it was-- and I'm sorry, and they'll regret it-- but you have to be tough.

I got my wish, I suppose. I left my scar.

I kept it for myself like a keepsake, as if sharing the memory might lead to its dissipation.

Books are seldom useful unless they are also beautiful.