“Oh, I can't describe my home. It is home, and I can't put its charm into words”

“These young folks say they can't leave home without their American Express, but nowadays I can't leave home without my pistol. I ain't used it in a while but I've been itching to.”

“It's like she looks right through me or into my soul or something. I can't even find the words to describe how i feel.”

“Words are like eggs dropped from great heights. You can't ever put the pieces back together after they hit home.”

“I can't let him go. I can't. There must be some way to bring him back. Oh, I can't think about this now! I'll go crazy if I do! I'll think about it tomorrow. But I must think about it. I must think about it. What is there to do? What is there that matters? Tara! Home. I'll go home. And I'll think of some way to get him back. After all... tomorrow is another day!”

“Oh I can't stop drinking the coffee, I stop drinking the coffee and I stop doing the standing and the walking and the words-putting-into-sentence-doing.”