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“Amira makes room for me, and I come up around her and also grip the handle, my hands resting above hers on the bar. “One, two, three . . . !” she says, and we pull hard. The door jerks back and Amira falls into me, but I instinctively grab her waist, steadying her. “Nice catch,” she says, patting my hand that has somehow come to rest on her stomach. I quickly pull it away, before I do something stupid like hold her there against me, her back to my front. “No problem,” I choke out.”

“Amira’s lips twitch and she shakes her head like she doesn’t know what to do with me. 'Apology accepted,' she says. 'Though I maybe also owe you an apology.' This surprises me, and it must show on my face. Amira adds, 'Don’t look so shocked. I just mean it’s possible you’re not the only one to blame for us not getting along all these years. You pushed me away, and I pushed back by trying to beat you in any class we were in together. Which, honestly, has been really exhausting. You’re very smart. Most of the time anyway. Though your emotional intelligence could use some work.' That shocks a laugh out of me, and Amira grins. 'So, does this mean we’re good now?' I ask. This almost feels too easy. Too good to be true. 'That depends, are we actually friends now?' There’s a small voice inside of me that wants me to ask for more than that, but I’m not willing to open that can of worms yet. I hold out my hand. 'Friends,' I say.”

“Amira waits a second, as if she's waiting for me to say more, but any words I attempt to form feel caught in my throat. She's lifting the flip-up section on the counter when I finally get the courage. ‘I'm sorry about what I said during training,’ I say. Amira stops and turns to look at me. When the silence stretches on, she raises one of her perfectly manicured brows. ‘Is that all?’ Of course, she's not going to make this easy for me. A bubble of irritation threatens to pop inside me, but I push it down. ‘I'm sorry that I said that I didn't think this job would be too hard-‘ ‘I think what you said was it wouldn't be 'too difficult to manage.' God, she's so annoying. ‘Right, and I can see now that it is not a simple job and so I'm sorry. And I don't want to fight with you anymore. At least not at work.’ I jut out my hand then, waiting for her to shake it, but Amira just looks down at it and then back at me. ‘You're supposed to shake it.’ ‘Yeah, no, I got that. I'm just thinking.’ ‘About what?’ ‘If I want to shake it.’ I swallow a groan of frustration and instead plaster the best smile I can to my face.”

“Amis is acutely, vibrantly sensitive to the different registers of laughter. He knows that it can be the most affirming and uniquely human sound, and also the most sinister and animalistic one. He understands every note of every octave that separates the liberating shout of mirth from the cackle of a bully or the snigger of a sadist.”

“Amit Datta,doctorando entonces en la prestigiosa Universidad Carnegie Mellon de Pensilvania, y su equipo crearon 500 perfiles masculinos y 500 femeninos con los que llevaron cabo búsquedas en Google esencialmente similares desde presuntos puestos de trabajo. A pesar de la coincidencia en todo, excepto en el sexo, los varones tenían muchas más probabilidades de recibir ofertas de empleo para directivos con sueldos superiores a los 200.000 dólares mientras que a las mujeres se le ofrecía puestos directivos medios.”

“Amity Gaige has written a flawless book. It does not contain a single false note. Playful and inventive, SCHRODER movingly depicts the ways we confound our own hearts--how even with the best intentions, we fail to love those closest to us as well as we wish we could. Eric Schroder should take his place among the most charismatic and memorable characters in contemporary fiction, and Amity Gaige her place among the most talented and impressive writers working today.”

“Amity was the cold, steady gaze of a double-barreled shotgun, bearing down. She was the glint of pinprick pupils gleaming through a night-lit window, the rythmic blast of a door left banging in a gale wind. The slither of a flesh-flayed limb beneath a bed skirt, a welcome note etched in blood. Amity's forever was reflected in the glimmering edge of an ax, in the rushing footprints, the twitching tail, the brushing fingertips of a zephyr, a cipher, a wordless, formless shape.”

“Amma Theodora said: A certain monk, afflicted by many sorrows, said to himself, "Leave this place." With these words he began to put his sandals on his feet, and suddenly he saw the devil in the form of a man sitting in the corner of his cell. The devil was also putting on his sandals. He said to the monk, "Are you leaving here because of me? Well then, wherever you go, I will be there before you."”

“Amma wanted her daughter to be free, feminist and powerful Later she took her on personal development courses for children to give her the confidence and articulacy to flourish in any setting Big mistake Mum, Yazz said at fourteen when she was pitching to go to Reading Music Festival with her friends, it would be to the detriment of my juvenile development if you curtailed my activities at this critical stage in my journey towards becoming the independent-minded and fully self-expressed adult you expect me to be, I mean, do you really want me rebelling against your old-fashioned rules by running away from the safety of my home to live on the streets and having to resort to prostitution to survive and thereafter drug addiction, crime, anorexia and abusive relationships with exploitative bastards twice my age before my early demise in a crack house? Amma fretted the whole weekend her little girl way away”

“Amma was shorter, with African hips and thighs perfect slave girl material one director told her when she walked into an audition for a play about Emancipation whereupon she walked right back out again in turn a casting director told Dominique she was wasting his time when she turned up for a Victorian drama when there weren’t any black people in Britain then she said there were, called him ignorant before also leaving the room and in her case, slamming the door”

“Amnesia, which is a loss of memory, is a symptom of many different trauma and/or dissociative disorders, including PTSD, Dissociative Fugue, Dissociative Disorder Not Otherwise Specified and Dissociative Identity Disorder. Amnesia can affect both implicit and explicit memory.”

“Amnesty will not help balance our budget ... In fact, a large-scale amnesty is likely to add trillions of dollars to the debt over time, accelerate Medicare's and Social Security's slide into insolvency and put enormous strain on our public-assistance programs.”