“Life is richness in many forms. We should all find our own.”

“Everybody wants more, and everybody should, what . . . should strive for being the best human being she can be. Or he can be. That people make mistakes is part of the sad side of living, along with dying and maiming and all the rest.”

“See a storm. See a bad spanking. See your boy is ugly. Decide your boy is the pope. Blow the pope away with an imaginary gun. Fellate your own fingers afterward.”

“Heroin makes you sick the first try. Cigarette smoking too if you're lucky. But if you're not lucky, and you develop a taste, if you're one who senses that cocaine gets better with time, or you're one who jumps out of a plane and becomes an adrenaline junky, or you're one who loves the feel of grease melting over your tongue in the form of pecan pie or thick clam chowder or a fat porterhouse or just plain ol' Doritos by the bagful, and you want to repeat the same comfort and recognizable surprise of that first go, that first indulgence, and yet with each succeeding bite the small hope of true satisfaction slides farther away, then you understand Celeste, at least a little.”

“You want enough to fill you up. You want more cocaine and more vodka. You want more of all of them, of men, of the things that stick out of them, egos and Marlboro reds and dirty words about banging your perfect ass.”

“Know the mistake of your dcision before your first step.”

“Dig in the pope's pocket for the bullet, the brown glass vial with the magic top. Snort. Taste chemicals running down the back of your throat. Snort again.”