“So, how’s big Kev?”“Oh, you mean my father?”“Yeah.”“He may be six-foot-five, but you’re a much bigger person, Dad.”

“I don’t know why you’re crying… but I hope it’s because you’re as in love with me half as much as I am in love with you.”

“I still loved him. I never stopped loving him, and never stopped hoping that he would fall back in love with me as well.”

“The diaper bag, the car seat, the bottles, the pacifiers, the changing mat, the wipes, and all the toys in their primary colored glory; none of which would compliment my outfit.”

“One drunken evening filled with passion, carelessness and Jagermeister.”

“When I was about nine, my siblings and I fell out of our moving van at an intersection. My dad didn’t notice for about five blocks. It was back before seat belts. It was also back before parents used any sort of common sense whatsoever. It was a time when you didn’t raise your children. You just fed them and they got bigger.”

“The decision-making part of the brain of an individual who has been using crystal meth is very interesting. When Carly and Andy were in their apartment, they ran out of drugs. They sold every single thing they had except two things: a couch and a blow torch. They had to make a decision because something had to be sold to buy more drugs. A normal person would automatically think, Sell the blow torch. But Andy and Carly sat on the couch, looking at the couch and looking at the blow torch, and the choice brought intense confusion. The couch? The blow torch? I mean, we may not need the blow torch today, but what about tomorrow? If we sell the couch, we can still sit wherever we want. But the blow torch? A blow torch is a very specific item. If you’re doing a project and you need a blow torch, you can’t substitute something else for it. You would have to have a blow torch, right? In the end, they sold the couch.”