My brain is such a traitorous beast.

To her, not packing our lunches every day or joining the PTA is a feminist rallying cry.

His voice is both low and quiet, and it has this hypnotic rhythm to it. I wonder whether someday he'll give sermons with that voice, whether he'll throw down judgement with that voice.

We're only three class sessions in and I'm already behind? And to hear it from him? This buttoned-up Bible-thumper I can't get out of my head?

High school is such an incestuous little pool.

Everything feels yes.

I am a monster beneath him, with arching hips, an octopus with hands everywhere at once. I don't think anything in the history of time has felt this good.

Maybe I'm crying because I'm terrified that he's come here to do more damage, to reactivate what I feel only to let me down easy again, missionary style.

The highway of grace will get you somewhere a whole lot faster then the freeway of spite.

Her eyes remind me of the Pacific: Raging. Fearless. Restless.

Here you are. Would you like some pickles?”“Pickles gives me the wind something awful.”“In that case—”“Oh, I wasn’t saying no, ” Mistress Weatherwax said, taking two large pickled cucumbers.

We simply do not understand our place in the universe and have not the courage to admit it.

Love is like the rain. It comes in a drizzle sometimes. Then it starts pouring and if you're not careful it will drown you.

All thinking is done with the glands. Logic is added later to tidy things up.

The stars above will be below when man has Love.

Without the freedom to criticize, there is no true praise.

When I first got the job, I was told nothing about my character. She's an anthropologist and she's tough, she's a female Indiana Jones. That's what I went into [Lost] knowing.

You’ve got to embrace what you don’t know.