“Rachel could see Corinne talking to Jason, but they were too far ahead to hear. Jason leaned closer to answer Corinne quietly. She laughed.”

“That’s it?” Jason asked. “You spent an hour talking about how lucky you were to be dying?”
No, not dying, Son. Living.”

“And that was as far as he got before i heard it. The thumping of footsteps, running up the lawn toward me: It seemed like I could hear it through the grass, like leaning your ear to a railroad track and feeling the train coming, miles away. As the noise got closer I could hear ragged breaths, and then a voice.”

“People never like me and I never like people," she thought. "And I never can talk as the Crawford children could. They were always talking and laughing and making noises.”

“I knew she wasn't English
Because she spoke it far too well
The grammar was goodly, the verbs as they should be
And the slang was bang on the bell
So as the language barrier clanged and banged
I couldn't hear--hear or see
England, London, and Bow
Crumbled into the sea.”

“She had almost dared ask, but was perhaps too fearful of hearing something she could not refute.”

“One summer morning at sunrise a long time ago
I met a little girl with a book under her arm.
I asked her why she was out so early and
she answered that there were too many books and
far too little time. And there she was absolutely right.”

“Interviewer: How long do your parents usually let you stay up?
Rachel: I probably get home at 1:00 (am) and I go to bed at 1:30. [shrugs] I don't know.
Tina: She's usually in bed at-
Rachel: 1?
Tina: 1.
Interviewer: 1 am? [laughing]
Tina: [laughing] 1 am. She's performing. She's-
Rachel: Maybe on a school night, I go to bed at 10! Maybe.
Tina: Yeah. Maybe. When you went to public school. Now she does homeschool, so she doesn't go to bed until 1.”

“They went on playing quietly and waiting for Sam (who had gone back to the bedroom to seek Tommy) and for their turns to see Mother. Bonnie meanwhile, with a rueful expression, was leaning out the front window, and presently she could not help interrupting them, 'Why is my name Mrs Cabbage, why not Mrs Garlic or Mrs Horse Manure?' They did not hear her, so intent were they, visiting each other and inquiring after the health of their respective new babies. They did not hear her complaining to Louie that, instead of being Mrs Grand Piano or Mrs Stair Carpet, they called her Garbage, 'Greta Garbage, Toni Toilet,' said she laughing sadly, 'because they always see me out there with the garbage can and the wet mop; association in children's naïve innocent minds you see!'
'Oh no, it isn't that, protested Louie, Garbage is just a funny word: they associate you with singing and dancing and all those costumes you have in your trunk!”

“Enna leaned back her head and laughed at the sky. 'Of course he wasn't! Who could kill Razo?”