There was a species of middle pretty who smiled at everything: happy smile, disappointed smile, you're-in-trouble smile.

The early summer sky was the color of cat vomit. Of course, Tally thought, you’d have to feed your cat only salmon-flavored cat food for a while, to get the pinks right.

The man was allergic to sleep.

You young things are too easily persuaded by the touch of lips.

The world needed more fireworks- especially now that there was going to be a shortage of beautiful, useless things.

I can’t imagine anything worse than being required to have fun.

We're not freaks, Tally. We're normal. We may not be gorgeous, but at least we're not hyped-up Barbie dolls.