“It comes out so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it: “It’s just that I thought maybe you were married to me.”

“It’s not something I can control, damn it. Every man I know wakes up with a hard-on.”“Maybe so, but they do not – repeat, do not - rub it on me.”“‘Every man I know’ wasn’t rubbing it on you! It was just me!”“And it was just your hair that I pulled, wasn’t it?” she asked sweetly.”

“You're wrong," I told her. "I lost that faith a long time ago."She looked at me as I said this, an expression of quiet understanding on her face. "Maybe you didn't, though," she said softly. "Lose it, I mean.""Lissa.""No, just hear me out." She looked out at the road for a second, then back at me. "Maybe, you just misplaced it, you know? It's been there. But you just haven't been looking in the right spot. Because lost means forever, it's gone. But misplaced... that means it's still around, somewhere. Just not where you thought.”

“What were you going to do with it?” McCain asked. "I just thought it might come in useful.”"Were you planning to attack me?” "No. But that’s a good idea.”

“The city was the perfect place, it was... Heaven. And when I got here people said: who are you? But I thought they were asking where so I said, Heaven.’Melrose sucks his pen. ‘And that became your name.’‘It’s not my name. It’s just what people call me.”

“here’s the sick, twisted thing: part of me thinks i deserve this. that maybe if i wasn’t such an asshole, isaac would have been real. if i wasn’t such a lame excuse for a person, something right might happen to me. it’s not fair, because i didn’t ask for dad to leave, and i didn’t ask to be depressed, and i didn’t ask for us to have no money, and i didn’t ask to want to fuck boys, and i didn’t ask to be so stupid, and i didn’t ask to have no real friends, and i didn’t ask to have half the shit that comes out of my mouth come out of my mouth. all i wanted was one fucking break, one idiotic good thing, and that was clearly too much to ask for, too much to want.”