“When my coffee is gone, so is my motivation.”

“It is not so much where my motivation comes from but rather how it manages to survive.”

“But you have gone now, all of you that were so beautiful when you were quick with life. Yet not gone, for you are still a living truth inside my mind. So how are you dead, my brothers and sisters, and all of you , when you live with me as surely as I live with myself.”

“I had wondered a million times how I could possibly go on living when my heart was gone? How was it possible that it still beat in my chest when it felt so empty?”

“The rhythm of her conversation. The perfection of her creation. The sex she slipped into my coffee. The way she felt when she first saw me. Hate to love and love to hate her. Like a broken record player. Back and forth and here and gone and on and on and on and on...”

“He was my cream, and I was his coffee -And when you poured us together, it was something.”