“if i'm going to fuck up my life, does it really matter which way i do it?.”

“It doesn’t really matter the logistics of how you fuck up your life. It’s what you do to change it.”

“And I still love you in my own fucked-up way. I miss you, I really do. Can we still be friends?”

“I don't believe this," Morelli yelled. "I don't fucking believe this. What do you do, sit in bed at night and think about ways to fuck up my life?”

“All I can think about is how fucked up it would be for your life to end here, now. I mean I know that your life if fucked up no matter what now, forever. And I'm not dumb enough to think that I can undo that, that anyone can. But I can't wrap my mind around the notion of you not getting old, having kids, going to Juilliard, getting to play that cello in front of a huge audience, so that they can get the chills the way I do every time I see you pick up your bow, every time I see you smile at me.”

“No matter which way you go . No matter which way you stay. You're out of my mind, out of my mind.”