“People Trust Me with their secrets, and I'm not sure why. It must be something in my face, probably my eyes.”

“Trust me, I'm an SF medic.This won't hurt... me.'You?'I'm not so sure, it'll probably hurt a lot.”

“Oh, what a nuisance you are! I'm giving you my mouth, my arms, my whole body - and everything could be so simple...My trust! I haven't any to give, I'm afraid, and you're making me terribly embarrassed. You must have something pretty ghastly on your conscience to make such a fuss about my trusting you.”

“You let me be who I am. So many people ask me why I need to take pictures all the time. Why I'm staring at something they can't see. It's like I have to apologize for having eyes. But you've never rushed me. I'm at my best around you. You're my nova. You light me up.”

“If a blind man were to ask me “Have you got two hands?” I should not make sure by looking. If I were to have any doubt of it, then I don’t know why I should trust my eyes. For why shouldn’t I test my eyes by looking to find out whether I see my two hands? What is to be tested by what?”

“I can't trust the people I care about not to hurt me. And I'm not sure I can trust myself not to hurt them, either.”