“What must that be like? To be admired before you’ve even said a word, to be desired two or three hundred times a day by people who have absolutely no idea what you’re like?”

“I'm just not prepared to be treated like this anymore.''Treated like what?'She sighed, and it was a moment before she spoke. 'Like you always want to be somewhere else, with someone else.”

“Find the thing you love, and do it with all your heart, to the absolute best of your ability, no matter what people say.”

“Just kidding' was exactly what people wrote when they meant every word.”

“Can I say something?''Go on''I'm a little drunk''Me too. That's okay.''Just....I missed you, you know.''I missed you too.''But so, so much, Dexter. There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about, and you weren't there-''same here.''I tell you what it is. It's.....When I didn't see you, I thought about you every day, I mean EVERY DAY in some way or another-''same here.''-Even if it was just "I wish Dexter could see this" or "Where's Dexter now?" or "Christ that Dexter, what an idiot", you know what I mean, and seeing you today, well, I thought I'd got you back - my BEST friend. And now all this, the wedding, the baby- I'm so happy for you, Dex, but it feels like I've lost you again.'--'You know what happens you have a family, your responsibilities change, you lose touch with people''It won't be like that, I promise.''Do you?''Absolutely''You swear? No more disappearing?''I won't if you won't.'Their lips touched now, mouths pursed tight, their eyes open, both of them stock still. The moment held, a kind of glorious confusion.”

“I tell you what it is. It's...when I didn't see you, I thought about you every day, I mean every day in some way or another -""Same here -""- even if it was just 'I wish Dexter could see this' or 'where's Dexter now?' or 'Christ, that Dexter, what an idiot', you know what I mean, and seeing you today, well, I thought I'd got you back - my best friend. And now all this, the wedding, the baby - I'm so happy for you, Dex. But it feels like I've lost you again.”

“Falling in love like that? Writing poetry, crying at pop songs? Dragging people into photo-booths, taking a while day to make a compilation tape, asking people if they wanted to share your bed, just for company? If you quoted Bob Dylan or T.S. Eliot or, God forbid, Brecht at someone these days they would smile politely and step quietly backwards, and who would blame them?”