Might as well do mine too:
Ril2: Right now I’m supposed to be all geeked up because I’m getting ready for a New Year’s Eve party that some guy named Lionel invited me to. Sheila, my baby sister, insisted on giving me his phone number because he lives here in Denver and her simple-ass husband played basketball with him eleven years ago at the University of Washington, and since I’m still single (which is downright pitiful to her, considering I’m the oldest of four kids and the only one who has yet to say “I do”), she’s worried about me.
Waiting to Exhale, Terry McMilllan
Ril8: Serene was a word you could put to Brooklyn, New York. Especially in the summer of 1912.
A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, Betty Smith
Ril9: Amoebae leave no fossils. They haven’t any bones. (No teeth, no blet buckles, no wedding rings.) It is impossible, therefore, to determine how long amoebae have been on earth.
Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Tom Robbins