“Jimmy: You'll end up like one of those chocolate merengues my wife is so fond of [Alison starts banging jars]...sweet and sticky on the outside, and sink your teeth in it [savouring every word]-inside, all white, messy and disgusting. [offering teapot sweetly to Helena] Milk?”

“White Chocolate. Intense, sweet. But not deep. Okay for prom dates or flings, but not to get serious..Milk chocolates are guys you could date for like a few months, and dark chocolates are for love.”

“He's at the chocolate teapot end of the competency scale.”

“Words. I had always loved them. I collected them, like I had collected pretty stones as a child. I liked to roll words over my tongue like a lump of molten honeycomb, savouring the sweetness, the crackle, the crunch.”

“Oh, beauty is a beguiling call to death and I'm addicted to the sweet pitch of its siren. That that starts sweet ends bitter, and that which starts bitter ends sweet.”

“That was the word she used to describe herself - fit. A.J. would've used other words. Like holy shit and sweet baby Jesus.A) If it were up to me, Alison, you'd never wear clothes again. Nor, for that matter, would I....Things not to say.”