“My wife won’t talk to me, but that’s OK, because it’s not like I’d listen if she did.”

“My wife keeps me busy while she talks—I’m not listening, but rather making the air masturbation gesture.”

“With still, underneath, the old respectable-girl-versus-slut thing. It’s OK to fuck around if you’re a feminist but it’s also not OK to fuck around because most guys aren’t feminists and won’t respect you and won’t call you again if you fuck around.”

“I wanted to talk to her because she seemed the most likely to not be manipulating me, but because she looked like the one least likely to manipulate me, she could in fact be the master manipulator, manipulating me into manipulating myself by asking for her help, ergo—yeah, I’d looked it up and it wasn’t a person—I’d fallen right into her trap. Got it? Glad somebody did.”

“Your impression of me is different than my impression of me. But that’s OK, because your impression is impressionistic, like a Monet painting, while mine is realistic, like a Rembrandt.”

“Nobody listens anymore. I can't talk to the walls because they're yelling at me, I can't talk to my wife; she listens to the walls. I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough it'll make sense. And I want you to teach me to understand what I read.”