“Tell me the truth. When you were a kid, did you always color inside the lines?”"Coloring in the lines is the whole point. That’s why they have lines,” I said.“That’s where you’re wrong. The lines are there just to hold you in. Like a prison. Think what you might have created if there hadn’t been any lines.”

“Why did you date all of those girls?” “Sometimes, you’re just looking for something that’s right.” Oh, it was a line. It was so a line. But it was a good line.”

“You have to draw a line. I just think I drew it in the wrong fucking place.”

“When the war comes, you’ll find me on the front line, with some crayons, coloring outside the lines.”

“You go about your business, as far away from these lines as possible, pretending they're not there. So when you eventually find yourself at one of these lines, your toe inching over, it's not only shocking and horrifying, it's banal. Because you've always been aware the lines were there, where you were trying with all your might not to see them, knowing that sooner or later you would.”

“I have too much to lose, she said, if I cross that line. Like what? I said. She could not think of anything that day so she said she'd get back to me. Since then I've been thinking what I would lose if I cross my line & I haven't come up with anything either. There's always another line somewhere.”