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One time a boy told me my mother was ugly, and I fought him so hard I ended up with a reputation. Ashley Ford will fight boys. I liked that.

— Somebody's Daughter by Ashley C. Ford

I was much more interested in bearing witness to all this freedom. Grown-ups seemed lighter at night, like their feet might hover an inch or two off the ground as soon as the sun went down. The later it got, the higher they flew.

— Somebody's Daughter by Ashley C. Ford

Parents were different when their children slept, and I had become an expert at making myself invisible enough to watch the transformation.

— Somebody's Daughter by Ashley C. Ford

As I attempted to drive this boy into the sandpit beneath his writhing body, I remembered my grandmother telling me, “I never lost a fight in my life, because I never stopped fighting until I won.”

— Somebody's Daughter by Ashley C. Ford

My grandmother used to say, “What’s the point of living by everybody if you don’t want to see anybody?” I came from social people, and though I felt overwhelmed by their company, I was always glad to see them. My mother was often in a good mood when she had good company.

— Somebody's Daughter by Ashley C. Ford

Kids can always tell the difference between adults who want to empower them, and adults who want to overpower them. She was the former.

— Somebody's Daughter by Ashley C. Ford

“These things catch fire without letting each other go. We don’t give up on our people. We don’t stop loving them.” She looked into my face, her eyes watering at the bottoms. “Not even when we’re burning alive.”

— Somebody's Daughter by Ashley C. Ford

I didn’t know any adults who apologized to children, and so his apology felt as wrong to me as my mother’s tears.

— Somebody's Daughter by Ashley C. Ford

A Faerie Queen. A Faerie Queen was standing in my office […] "Yes," she murmured. "Wise enough to be afraid. To understand, at least in part. How does it feel, to know what you know, child?" My voice came out unsteady, and more quiet than I would have liked. “Sort of like Tokyo when Godzilla comes up on the beach.” Mab tilted her head, watching me with that same smile. Maybe she didn’t get the reference. Or maybe she didn’t like being compared to a thirty-story lizard. Or maybe she did like it. I mean, how should I know? I have enough trouble figuring out human women.

— Summer Knight by Jim Butcher (Dresden Files (4))