I didn't get fired." "You didn't punch your boss and get fired from the Tribune? That's what I heard." "I punched what could loosely be called a colleague for cribbing my notes on a story and since the editor–who happened to be the asshole's uncle–took his word over mine, I quit." "To write books. Is it fun?" "I guess it is." "I bet you killed the asshole in the first one you wrote." "You'd be right. Beat him to death with a shovel. Very satisfying.

Damn me to hell or take me to heaven, but for Gods sake, do it now.

Planting a flower's like opening a book, because either way you're starting something. And your garden's your library.

Anything worth anything can be found in books.

It takes a lot of spine and stomach to make yourself into something when no one gives you a foundation.

Oh, God. God, isn't that perfect? He's Dad. He's Dad with a layer of nerd. Solid, steady, chipping away so patiently, you don't even know you've had your shields hacked down until you're defenseless. It's the type." "You're not in love with a type, you're in love with a man," Penny corrected. "Or you're not.

- "Women should all move to Amazonia, or at least vacation there four times a year." - "Amazonia?" - "It's the girl world in my head, where I go when I'm annoyed with Carter, or just men in general. There are five shoe stores per capita, nothing has any calories, and all the books and movies end happy ever after." - "I like Amazonia. When do we leave?