“i hate her skinny thighs and her elitist attitude. i hope she's a dreadful bitch who makes you so miserable that you howl when you remember me.”

“I could distinguish the shape of her bosom, her arms, her thighs, just as I remember them now, just as now, when the Moon has become that flat, remote circle, I still look for her as soon as the first sliver appears in the sky, and the more it waxes, the more clearly I imagine I can see her, her or something of her, but only her, in a hundred, a thousand different vistas, she who makes the Moon the Moon and, whenever she is full, sets the dogs to howling all night long, and me with them.”

“I hate you. I hate you like the girl who hates cake because it makes her fat and she can’t stop eating it.”

“Over and over I had to reassure her. “You hate me,” she would say. “Lori, I don’t hate you. I love you.” Finally it began to dawn on me. When she challenged me like that, she wasn’t making a statement. She was asking a question. And she needed to hear the answer. She needed to hear that I still accepted her. She needed to hear that I still cared for her. Over and over again she needed to hear me tell her that I loved her.”

“I hate you,” I declared.“You don’t.”“I do.”“Okay, maybe whoever this new Ava is does but she’s a bitch and I don’t give a fuck if she hates me. The old Ava doesn’t hate me and she’s in there somewhere, I saw her five minutes ago and that’s who I'm keeping safe.”

“Remember that I have power; you believe yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master;--obey!”