“Why don't I like you?""Because you think I'm an asshole, and I'm not really, I'm just British and, well, you're not.”

“But don't go thinking that I'm critical of you, Anton, because really I'm not. Not a bit! It's just that you're not here. I'm alone and I'm frightened and you're not here. And you're not ever going to be here for me.”

“Cover your glass in France or Germany --even worse, in England - and in the voice of someone who has personally affronted, your host will ask why you're not drinking. 'Oh, I just don't feel like it this morning.''Why not?''I guess I'm not in the mood?''Well, this'll put you in the mood. Here. Drink up.''No, really, I'm OK.''Just taste it.''Actually, I'm sort of...well, I sort of have a problem with it.''Then how about half a glass?”

“And just because I've written this book, don't think I've changed. I'm like I was back then, really.”

“I'm just going to be really honest right now because this is all new to me and I don't know how else to handle it." He takes a deep breath and pushes the air off his forehead. "I like being around you. I like talking to you. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you.”

“I like people thinking I'm an asshole. Being an asshole is my life's vocation; I'm a goddamned asshole professional.”