“He could cheat on me and he would never tell me, and he would think less and less of me for not figuring it out. He would see me across the breakfast table, innocently slurping cereal, and know that I am a fool, and how can anyone respect a fool?”

“He is learning to love me unconditionally, under all my conditions. I think we are finally on our way to happiness. I have finally figured it out.”

“He Giving Treed me out of existence.”

“He has a great smile, a cat's smile. He should cough out yellow Tweety Bird feathers, the way he smiles at me.”

“I still believed he'd love me again somehow, love me that intense, thick way he did, the way that made everything good.”

“I have never been a nag. I have always been rather proud of my un-nagginess. So it pisses me off, that Nick is forcing me to nag. I am willing to live with a certain amount of sloppiness, of laziness, of the lackadaisical life. I realize I am more type A than Nick, and I try not to inflict my neat-freaky, to-do-list nature on him. Nick is not the kind of guy who is going to think to vacuum or clean out the fridge. He truly doesn't see that kind of stuff. Fine. Really. But I do like a certain standard of living - I think it's fair to say the garbage shouldn't literally overflow, the plates shouldn't sit in the sink for a week with smears of bean burrito dried on them. That is just being a good grown-up roommate. And Nick's doing anything anymore, so I nag, and it pisses me off: You are turning me into what I never have been and never wanted to be, a nag because you are not living up to your end of a very basic compact. Don't do that, It's not ok to do.”

“Would you still love me if I killed someone?” I said nothing. My breath was coming too fast. “I would still love you,” Go said. “Go, do you really need me to say it?” She stayed silent. “I did not kill Amy.” She stayed silent. “Do you believe me?” I asked. “I love you.”