The maples had sheltered the west side of our house for over a hundred years, and left, as fallen trees do, a void so absolute you couldn't possibly … - Alison Bechdel

What's lost in translation is the complexity of loss itself.

Mrs. Pidgeon: That little girl whose mother is in the, um, "threesome." Why do you say she's confused about her gender? She seems perfectly normal to me.
Sparrow: Mom, she's a boy.
Mrs. Pidgeon: Oh. Well then, I'm not quite so worried about that revealing top. I was going to speak to her mother.

Carlos: Manly-Man Training Academy, Butch speaking! … OH! Señor Ortiz! Sí, this is Toni's number. ...¿¡De qué estás hablando?! ¡No! I'm not the father! I'm just the babysitter, I swear! ¿Qué?! You want me to marry your daughter? Well okay, but I'm keeping my own name!