“I'm not going anywhere.”

“I already live like you," Evan lifted his head and looked straight into Christian's eyes. "I'm living like you right now, without her. If she leaves me when I ask her to marry me, or at the altar, or tomorrow, I could still say I tried. I could still say I loved her, that I kissed her, I held her." Evan inhaled a deep breath, his chest swelling with the intensity of it. "Without her, I'll just rot into nothing.”

“He dropped the joint in the dirt and ran inside. It wasn't his first, and wouldn't be his last. The joint, that is. Not the kid. He was pretty sure, at this point, that he would never have sexual relations with his wife again.”

“Writing is the voices inside our heads, our minds, the creativity that exists for us to, from nothing, create alternate worlds, manipulate a personality or to introduce a new kind of love, a new kind of hate or pain or happiness or wonder or... anything we want. Through words, we can do, we can be anything we want.”

“Daniel had no idea what was happening to him. He felt sick. No, he didn’t feel sick. He didn’t feel sick. That was the problem. Or, it wasn’t a problem. Was it? Was it a problem when you didn’t feel normal, and that made you smile because normal never really felt right anyway?”

“They didn’t let you bring marijuana on airplanes, apparently, as hard as that was to believe.”

“Baking was a science, precise, just mix it all together and let the oven do the work. But actually cooking, she couldn’t cook a tasty meal if her life depended on it.”