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

“I could see the cat was definitely on the steps. Still on the steps, 20 minutes after Carl's call. This was strange; Amy loved the cat. The cat was declawed, the cat was never let outside, never ever, because the cat ... was sweet, but extremely stupid. ... Amy knew she'd never see the cat again if he ever got out. The cat would waddle straight into the Mississippi River, "deedlie-dum," and float all the way to the Gulf of Mexico into the maw of a hungry bull shark. But it turned out, the cat wasn't even smart enough to get past the steps.”

“He Giving Treed me out of existence.”

“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.”

“Depression to me is urine yellow. Washed out, exhausted miles of weak piss.”

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