“You say you're not special because the world doesn't know about you, but that's an insult to me. I know about you.”

“I don't care if the New York Times writes an obituary for me. I just want you to write one. ... You say you're not special because the world doesn't know about you, but that's an insult to me. I know about you.”

“You're wrong about me, because we can be friends if you let me try, now that you know how worthless I am. And you're wrong about Barcelona, too, because you may think you've seen everything, but I can guarantee that's not true. If you'll allow me, I can prove it to you.”

“You're as cowardly as a g------ weasel. You know that? A weasel. That's what you are.""You don't know me," I say, spitting blood onto the dirt. I can't help it. I start to laugh. "And you obviously don't know much about weasels, either.”

“You're crazy about me, Elliot ...""You know how I know, Elliot?" ..."I know how you feel because I feel the same way.”

“You don't know what you're talking about," he says. "And you shouldn't talk about things you know nothing about.”