“Shirley: "Christopher, would you like to tell Olivia what "F.I.N.E" means?"Christopher: "Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional"...Olivia: "But what if you really do feel fine?"Shirley: "Christopher, care to answer that?"Christopher: "Um, there's no such feeling as fine.”

“What if talking about your feelings doesn't fix anything? What if what you really need is to make the feelings go away?”

“That's what dreams are really like, you know? They're not full of melting clocks or floating roses or people made out of rocks. Most of the time, dreams look just like the normal world. It's your feelings that tell you something's off. Not your mind, not your intellect, not something as obvious as that. The only part of you that really knows what's going on is the part of you that's most a mystery. If that's not Surrealism, I don't know what is.”

“I was on the floor. "Um, a little help?" Christopher put his hand down. Martini cleared his throat and Christopher's hand retracted. "I can handle it, thanks." "There's nothing amorous about pulling someone off the floor," Christopher muttered. "There is when I do it.”

“Maybe this is all love is and all it will ever be-- boys fucking girls and pretending it's love, girls getting fucked and pretending they like it, saying "I love you, too," and wanting to throw up.”

“Rosalind: “Elias told me that you met with your uncle this morning. Whatever did he say to put you in such a bad temper?”Christopher: “Do you really want to know?”Rosalind: “Of course I do.”Christopher: “He told me to seduce you.”Rosalind: “How strange. That's exactly what my grandfather told me to do to you.” She bobbed a curtsy “Goodnight. Sir Christopher.”

“I want to crush my cigarette on his eyelid. I would rather he keep fucking me for the rest of the night than lie here staring at me tracing my ribs with his fingertips, acting like what happened meant something.”