“You know your all fucks! why am i so dichable? now how am i supposed to kill you with out upseting that poor nice women!? God damnit alice i liked you why did you have to be such a bitch”

“You teach me now how cruel you've been - cruel and false. Why did you despise me? Why did you betray your own heart, Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: they'll blight you - they'll damn you. You loved me - what right had you to leave me? What right - answer me - for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will did it. I have no broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you - Oh, God! would you like to lie with your soul in the grave?”

“Why, about you!" Tweedledee exclaimed, clapping his hands triumphantly. "And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be?""Where I am now, of course," said Alice."Not you!" Tweedledee retorted contemptuously. "You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream!""If that there King was to wake," added Tweedledum, "you'd go out--bang!--just like a candle!""I shouldn't!" Alice exclaimed indignantly.”

“What is it with you women?" he yelled, kicking at the air. "You come into our lives, you take everythin'! Throughout the years you got little pieces of me, of my very SOUL, and NOW? Now you got my damn straight razor! How am I supposed to kill people? How am I supposed to even SHAVE?”

“Why did you betray your own heart Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself. ... You loved me - then what right had you to leave me? Because ... nothing God or satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you - oh God! would you like to live with your soul in the grave? [...] I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer - but yours! How can I?”

“I am not upset that you lied to me, I am upset that from now on I cannot believe you.”