“I'm a uniter not a divider. That means when it comes time to sew up your chest cavity, we use stitches as opposed to opening it up.”

“When I sew you up...Don't let me,Stop bleeding,Tiny stitches that you placed into my skin,Won't let me go,And they're ruining the mood.”

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.”

“We are raised to believe (on the surface, at least) that us humans only have so much love to give, and that it comes in a standard round unit: one. After all, we associate love with the heart, and, well, you've either got a whole heart, or you're dead, period. You can't, common wisdom goes, just run around dividing that one heart up freely; to claim to do so means that you're either a fool, or you're dividing up something that is dead.”

“Love is opening up, removing stitches prematurely, letting the wound tremble in the sunlight.”

“He's dead: Internal bleeding. When they opened him up they found a toothbrush shiv lodged in the anal cavity. It was never determinded whether he'd put it up there for safe keeping himself or somebody else did it for him, but it was a good lesson for the rest of the inmates. They even put up a sign. "Never put sharp objects up your ass.”