“You can have all the sympathy in the world," she said, "just don't feel like you have to wrap your life around it.”

“It's better being crazy because if you don't like the way it is here then you can have dreams. And if you don't like the dreams, then they come and give you shots and you don't feel anything anyway and you just drift around. Dead. Half-dead. Alive but like you're dead. You just drift around alive, but dead. And it all seems the same after a while.”

“E.L. Doctorow said once said that 'Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.' You don't have to see where you're going, you don't have to see your destination or everything you will pass along the way. You just have to see two or three feet ahead of you. This is right up there with the best advice on writing, or life, I have ever heard.”

“You don't have to feel like a waste of space, your original can not be replaced”

“That okay. I'll go find somewhere else to sleep."Her fingers wrap around my arm. "You don't have to go anywhere. I feel safe with you.”

“I'm just full of surprises." Watching her, he waved the wrapped bar from side to side. "You can have the candy if you sit on my lap."That sounds like something perverted old men say to young, stupid girls."I'm not old, and you're not stupid." He sat, patted his knee. "It's Belgian chocolate."Just because I'm sitting on your lap and eating your candy doesn't mean you can cop a feel," she said as she folded into his lap.”