“All of which makes up a story I do not choose to tell. I choose not to tell it because to no one, not even to you, do I own proof that I am a substantial being with a substantial history in the world.”

“I am one man with a laptop. When I give the world my characters, it's because I don't want to keep them for myself. You don't like what I made them do? Fucking tell me I'm wrong! Rewrite the story. Throw in a new plot twist. Make up your own ending.”

“How can I be substantial if I do not cast a shadow? I must have a dark side also If I am to be whole.”

“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?" "It was I." "But what for?" "Child," said the Voice, "I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”

“Are you trying to tell me—in your own typically macho way—that you want to make love again?” He glanced at her. “I’m not trying to tell you anything. I want you. You want me. Someone is going to end up wearing nothing but a satisfied smile on her lips.” “I don’t know, Nick, I might talk afterward. Do you think you can handle it?” “I can handle anything you can think up, and a few things you’ve probably never even thought of.” “Do I have a choice?” “Sure, wild thing. I have four bedrooms. You can choose which one we use first.”

“My choices matter—and there are paths towards making wiser ones—but I cannot choose what I choose. And if it ever appears that I do—for instance, after going back between two options—I do not choose to choose what I choose. There is a regress here that always ends in darkness.”