“Please!" I stop my pacing, glare at him. "Is that all you can think about at a time like this?"Gabriel rolls up on one elbow and smiles at me. "I'm a guy. It's what I think about all the time.”

“You're getting to be a big boy,' I said desperately, 'it's time you started thinking about your future.''I'm thinking about my future,' said Sonny, grimly. 'I think about it all the time.”

“Nothing he said could change what I think of you. I've had my mind made up about you for a long time... and it's all good.”

“No. You can't. And I can't do anything either, about my life, to change it, make it better, make me feel better about it. Like it better, make it work. But I can stop it. Shut it down, turn it off like the radio when there's nothing on I want to listen to. It's all I really have that belongs to me and I'm going to say what happens to it. And it's going to stop. And I'm going to stop it. So. Let's just have a good time.”

“I think she cried at my funeral. It's not that I'm conceited or anything, but I'm pretty sure. Sometimes I can actually picture her talking about me to some guy she feels close to. Talking about me dying. About how they lowered me into the grave, kind of shrivelled up and pitiful, like an old chocolate bar. About how we never really got a chance. And afterwards the guy fucks her, a fuck that's all about making her feel better.”

“What do you think about when you can't sleep? Sometimes I think about the ocean. I can see it lapping on the shore, waves rolling in one after the other, washing over the sand, never stopping. That's what usually puts me to sleep.”