“She makes a stone-face, drops her voice an octave.-No. No. No. My name is Joe Pitt and I don't do nuthin' I don't want to do and I won't even listen because I don't know a good thing when I have it and I'd rather be all fucked up and tragic and go hurt people.”

“--Tell them to drop their guns and fuck off out of my way.--Allow him to--I clamp my arm tight.--That's not what I said.She gets it right this time.--Drop your guns and fuck off out of his way.They drop their guns and fuck off out of my way.”

“Don’t make me come out there and spray you, blanco.I point at my one eye.“Better have some sharpshooter fucking aim you want that shit to do any good.”

“Yeah, good to see you too.Her hand stays on the gun.“Did I say it was good to see you, Joe?“No, but I always try to read between the lines. Figured you going for your gun was how you express affection these days.”

“There something I can do to get this over with quick? Like, can I just run in front of a cab and take my lumps and we call it even? As opposed to you cutting off my nose and all, I mean.”

“One day, when I am a braver man, I will tell her these things, and then I will look her in the eye tell her I love her and ask her to be only mine. But until that day, we're just friends.”

“Like I was ever normal. Like I was ever any different from how I am now. A cure won't make me better. It'll just make me more like a regular son of a bitch. Like the Vyrus makes you into something else. It doesn't. If you get it, if you survive, it's because you were already the kind of person who will drink blood.”