“You don't know shits I through in my life. You don't know how many times I've fucked. You don't know me.”

“You don't know shit about me, I don't know shit about you. You don't even know shit about you.”

“Don't you get that yet? You don't know shit about me, I don't know shit about you. You don't even know shit about you.”

“I don't know what shit you're working though but I know its there. I know you'd rather not even acknowledge it and definitely don't want me to be a part of the process. I don't care. Princess, this is happening between you and me.""What, exactly, do you mean by 'this'? You fucking me?" I snapped..." Yeah. Me fucking you. In your bed, on your couch, in my bed and anywhere else I can think of. I'm gonna do you on your back, on your knees and you're gonna ride me. And when I've exhausted you and you don't have those fucking shields up, I'm gonna make you talk to me and tell me what this shit is about and then, maybe, I can help you with it.”

“No, you started this shit. I don't know how they do it in Rhode Island, but here in Jersey, bitches get stitches for talking shit and fucking with something they shouldn't.”

“One of chief pieces of advice I give to aspiring rationalists is "Don't try to be clever." And, "Listen to those quiet, nagging doubts." If you don't know, you don't know what you don't know, you don't know how much you don't know, and you don't know how much you needed to know.”