I remember myself as a child, pudgy and awkward and unsure of myself. For a moment I wonder how anyone could love such a child as that, let alone the woman she promised to become.

When you’re a child the world forbears you, allows you your flights of imagination, your feelings of specialness. But sooner or later the privileges are withdrawn, and all you’re left with is a stunned bitterness at the realisation that you’re just the same as everybody else.

'La Femme Nikita,' the original, the French version is one of my favorites; or like an Alabama from 'True Romance.' [That] would be cool.

They are faithful, even if we are not.

It was a little awkward walking behind his mom when, about eight hours ago, I had been rolling around on the floor with her son with my shirt pulled halfway up my back.

She thought in would be awkward for both to be brought into conscious collision; and fancied that, from her being on a low seat at first, and now standing behind her father, he had overlooked her in his haste. As if he did not feel the consciousness of her presence all over, though his eyes had never rested on her!