“Well, the gondola operator—whose name was ‘Happy,’ I might add—failed to inform me that about sixty seconds into the trip, the floor under the section of car I was standing on was going to slide away.Turns out it was a really useful way of finding out which of the passengers suffers from acute acrophobia.”

“On the way out to the car, Philip turns to me.“How could you be so stupid?I shrug, stung in spite of myself.“I thought I grew out of it.”Philip pulls out his key fob and presses the remote to unlock his Mercedes. I slide into the passenger side, brushing coffee cups off the seat and onto the floor mat, where crumpled printouts from MapQuest soak up any spilled liquid.“I hope you mean sleepwalking,” Philip says, “since you obviously didn’t grow out of stupid.”

“Sometimes I shield myself from finding out what's really going on with people for fear I'll be held responsible. Because with information often comes responsibility; if we know, we might be required to do something”

“The name fuse followed me from the book to the screenplay, and now I have to live with the name, which I chose in 30 seconds with no thought about how it might sound or what it might imply. It was just a funny thing.”

“I have a meanness inside me, real as an organ. Slit me at my belly and it might slide out, meaty and dark, drop on the floor so you could stomp on it.”

“This is the way I see it: if you get to know yourself really well, you might discover that deep down inside you’re just a dirty, disgusting, and selfish piece of shit. What if my heart is all rotted out and corrupted? What about that? What am I suppose to do with that information? Just tell me that.”