“~ You know young Francis Weston? He that waits on the king? His people are giving out that you’re a Hebrew... Next time you’re at court, take your cock out and put it on the table and see what he says to that.~ I do that anyway, if the conversation flags.”

“If you’re not scared then you’re not taking a chance. If you’re not taking a chance then what the hell are you doing anyway?”

“I don’t judge others. I say if you feel good with what you’re doing, let your freak flag fly.”

“I’d ask you to hang out with us, but you’re not supposed to see me this way.’…‘What way?’ I ask. ‘Drunk?’‘Yeah…well, no.’ His voice softens. ‘Real, I guess.’‘I’ll pretend I didn’t.’‘Nice of you.’ He puts his lips next to my ear and says, ‘You look good, Tris.’…I laugh. ‘Do me a favor and stay away from the chasm, okay?’‘Of course.’ He winks at me.”

“Whats ironic,” he adds, shaking his head, “is that everyone’s so busy trying not to look like they’re looking at you that they’re really not looking at you.”Wait. So what you’re saying…” I pause. “What you’re saying is…people aren’t really looking at me?”

“The next suitable person you’re in light conversation with, you stop suddenly in the middle of the conversation and look at the person closely and say, “What’s wrong?” You say it in a concerned way. He’ll say, “What do you mean?” You say, “Something’s wrong. I can tell. What is it?” And he’ll look stunned and say, “How did you know?” He doesn’t realize something’s always wrong, with everybody. Often more than one thing. He doesn’t know everybody’s always going around all the time with something wrong and believing they’re exerting great willpower and control to keep other people, for whom they think nothing’s ever wrong, from seeing it.”