- Teddy Dwyer: It happens that I am tired... I am tired of my feet and my nails and my hair and my shadow. It happens that I am tired of being a man. I'm tired of living...
- Mini Dwyer: Would you like to know what it is we want to spare you from? The doctors describe it as a kind of starvation death. Except every cell in my body is a stomach. The pain will be immense. I'll lose all sense of who I am or what I am. I'll lose my insides and I'll lose my outsides. I'll be half my size and weight. Or smaller. A tiny figure lying on a rubber sheet in some hideous cinder-block building they call a hospital.
- Mini Dwyer: I will be a figure you won't recognize. But also one you'll never forget. And inside that figure somewhere will be me. The Miniature Dwyer that will be remembered will be the one she never dreamt of. Or knew. Or cared to know. Or would let herself know.