“You're drunk, and I'm drunk, and I'm just exactly drunk enough to tell you anything you want to know. That's the kind of girl I am. If I like a person, I'll tell them anything they want to know. Just ask me. Go ahead, ask me.”

“Give me another chance," I ask urgently. "I will do anything that you want me to do if you just tell me that we can start again. I know I don't deserve it, but I'm asking anyway. I honestly don't know if I can breathe without you. Please. I love you, Mila. Please tell me we can work it out.”

“The generalizing writer is like the passionate drunk, stumbling into your house mumbling: I know I'm not being clear, exactly, but don't you kind of feel what I'm feeling?”

“I'll be anything you want, just tell me what you want and I'll be that.”

“If you ask me anything I don't know, I'm not going to answer.”

“I'm not drunk,' I said indignantly.You were just dancing like some wood nymph five minutes ago. You took your shirt off and now you're latched onto me like a little monkey. So don't tell me you're in complete control of yourself.”