“This makes me feel ritually unclean.”

“Explain me to myself, you’ll make me choke on my lunch. Feel sympathy for me, I’ll puke monkey blood on your understated shoes.”

“Days like this. I look at you and feel electric. Tell me you don't feel it too.”

“I think of kids. It makes me feel selfish, to be so wary of having a family. Never mind do I have a job or not. I'll have a job soon, a good one. That's not it. I'm in awe of raising, basically, someone so tiny and soft.”

“If this makes me sexier then where are you going?”

“I have only a bare working knowledge of the human brain but it's enough to make me proud to be an American.”

“It is when death is rendered graphically, is televised so to speak, that you sense an eerie separation between your condition and yourself. A network of symbols has been introduced, an entire awesome technology wrested from the gods. It makes you feel like a stranger in your own dying.”