“My stomach hurts, but if it's guilt or impacted stool, I can't tell. Either way, I'm so full of shit.”

“The idea that I can't share my problems with other people makes me not give a shit about their problems.”

“That's what I love about fire, how it would kill me as quick as anybody else. How it can't know I'm its mother. It's so beautiful and powerful and beyond feeling anything for anybody, that's what I love about fire.”

“Me, personally, I tell dude 137 how I'm adding an embossed slogan to my dildos. Cast in high-relief going around the base, it's going to say, "The Dick That Killed Cassie Wright..." On the thickest part, so if you twist it the letters of the writing stimulate the clit.”

“And I say no. The problem is the light, the dim light down here. Cupped in the palm of my hand, the cyanide and the wood pill, I can't tell which is which. What's sex and what's death—I can't tell the difference.I ask which one to give her.And Mr. Bacardi leans in to look, both of us breathing hot, damp air into my open hand.”

“People can't concieve of a virtue in someone else that they can't coneive in themselves. Instead of believing you're stronger, it's so much easier to imagine you're weake. You're addicted to self-abuse. You're a liar. People are always ready to believe the opposite of what you tell them.”

“A girl calls and asks, "Does it hurt very much to die?""Well, sweetheart," I tell her, "yes, but it hurts a lot more to keep living.”