“Did you have to murder him?Yes, as a matter of fact I did.Well, the deed's done. No use complaining.”

“You're half-dead, yet you have the vigor to philander?I was stabbed, not castrated.”

“I love her more than my life. What were you thinking, harming her? Didn't you understand that I'd have to kill you for it?”

“Don't let me walk away.In case you haven't noticed, I'm trying my damnedest to stop you.”

“Die, damn you!Maybe tomorrow. Just now I'm busy.”

“In his dream, George Stetchkin was in the dock at the Central Criminal Court, accused of the murder of nine million innocent brain cells. The usher was showing the jury the alleged murder weapon, an empty Bison Brand wodka bottle. Then the judge glared at him over the rims of his spectacles and sentenced him to the worst hangover of his life.”

“What if I forgave myself? I thought. What if I forgave myself even though I'd done something I shouldn't have? What if I was a liar and a cheat and there was no excuse for what I'd done other than because it was what I wanted and needed to do? What if I was sorry, but if I could go back in time I wouldn't do anything differently than I had done? What if I'd actually wanted to fuck every one of those men? What if heroin taught me something? What if yes was the right answer instead of no? What if what made me do all those things everyone thought I shouldn't have done was what also had got me here? What if I was never redeemed? What if I already was?”