“You want to know what I'm wearing?""Not unless you think it'll really get me excited.""I'm afraid clothes have to have women in them for you to get excited.""Maybe you could talk in a high voice.""Cut through the shit, Hap.”

“.... I may need you to accompany me to functions, and I want you dressed well. I'm sure your salary, when you do get a job, won't cover the kind of clothes I'd like you to wear.""I don't have to wear them when I'm not with you?""No.""Okay." Think of them as uniform.”

“No one really knows what I'm really like, and you won't unless you spend a day with me, or if you're my friend. No one ever knows what anyone is really like. Read all the interviews you want on them, it's just the media talking and you can't really get to know someone that way, obviously.”

“I'm not afraid of being dead. I'm just afraid of what you might have to go through to get there.”

“Actually, you know what? You keep thinking I'm God's gift to women, angel. It's better for me if you believe I'm the best you can get.”

“Hap, even tough I'm a racist castrating bitch that wants you to be better than you are, wants you to do something with your life besides be a knockabout, do you think you could find it in your heart, in your itty-bitty white man's dick, to get a hard-on for me? In other words, want to fuck?”