“You know you're doing what you love when Sunday nights feel the same as Friday nights....”

“Morning or night, Friday or Sunday, made no difference, everything was the same: the gnawing, excruciating, incessant pain; that awareness of life irrevocably passing but not yet gone; that dreadful, loathsome death, the only reality, relentlessly closing in on him; and that same endless lie. What did days, weeks, or hours matter?”

“what are you doing?"" making love to you. roll over katie."" but we...you're..."" sure am."" we can't..""it's just one night, right?"yes.""night's not over”

“Do you know what it means to come home at night to a woman who'll give you a little love, a little affection, a little tenderness? It means you're in the wrong house, that's what it means.”

“But we made a pact that night to try. To stay true to ourselves and each other. It's what you have to do when you're a girl. Stick together. Remember what you love. And stay true.”

“THE CURSEMay they neverReturn home at night...May you have no part of eventide,May you have no room of your own,Nor road, nor return.May your days be all exactly the same,Five Fridays in a row,Always an unlucky Tuesday,No Sunday,May you have no more little worries,Tears or inspiration,For you yourself are the greatest worry on earth:Prisoner!”