“Reed: "What's up?"Vanessa: "There must be an accident or something."Reed: "I'm the accident."Vanessa: "I couldn't agree more."Reed: "What I meant was, those people out there are waiting for me.”

“Anyway, I'm afraid to ask about Reed, where he is, because I'm afraid I can't handle the answer. The way people come and go in your life, where they're present and alive one minute, and missing or dead the next, is an idea that's too big for me to grasp. Life just seems way too fragile all of a sudden, and everybody seems to take it so lightly, as if they think we're all made like army tanks, big and strong and able to roll over anything in our way. And it's not just our bodies that are fragile; our minds are even more so. I don't know what fine membrane separates sanity from insanity, but after watching my dad slip-sliding around on the border between the two all my life, I know how easy it is to cross, and this scares me. This scares me to death. I've just been wondering, what if I had had the switchblade in my hand? What if Reed had dared me and I was the one with the switchblade? Maybe I would have used it. Then I'd be the one missing. It could have been me. I could have been Reed. Reed is me and I am Reed is Dad is Reed is me.”

“Pascal told only half the story. He said man was a thinking reed. What man is, is a thinking reed and a walking genital.”

“Man is but a reed, the most feeble thing in nature; but he is a thinking reed.”

“Bastards have pissed me off," Reed snarled, out of breath, as he backed into the open armory door. "They hit me in the face."Lang grabbed Reed's jaw, turned his face toward him. "It's just a scratch."It's just my fucking face," Reed sputtered. "It needs to look good on a book jacket when I write my memoirs someday.”

“I know what I want, Reed, and if you can’t give it to me…you’re shit out of luck. After what I’ve been through, I don’t care what you think you can do to me.”