“Did you know that you deserve much, much more than a guy like Javier?” I asked. “Did you know that even if I did know I deserve more than that, it still haunts me that I can’t at least have it?”

“I was discovering a hard truth: There’s no way to catch up on sleep. When it’s gone, it’s gone, and the best you can hope for is to have better luck next time.”

“I have no more idea now of who I am than I did before. But at least I know that. And I'm starting to figure out who I want to be.”

“I know some of you areThinking maybe I deserved it.But before you start pointingFringers, let me ask youIs what I did really so bad?So bad I deserved to die?So bad I deserved to die like that?Is what I did really much worseThen what anybody else does?Is it really so much worseThan what you do?”

“It's funny, I don't feel any older than I did when I was twenty. But I know I am, because recently some twenty-year-old called me 'sir.' Sometimes the only way you know you are getting older is by the way others treat you.”

“We are only what we know, and I wished to be so much more than I was, sorely.”

“No, It does. And if I left, you’d probably want to give me my jacket back. And if you did, I wouldn’t be able to put it on, because the whole time I’d be knowing how perfectly it fit on you. How even though the sleeves are ridiculously too long and the collar is all fucked up and for all I know some guy named Salvatore is going to come in this very club and say, ‘Hey, that’s my jacket’ and strike up a conversation and sweep you off your feet away from me- even though all those things are true or possibly true, I just can’t ruin the image of you sitting there across from me wearing my jacket better than I, or anyone else could. If I don’t owe it to you, and I don’t owe it to me, I at least owe it Salvatore.”