“Just…tell me I’m not crazy,” he whispered. “That this…isn’t as insane as I think it is”…“I don’t know … Maybe we’re both a little crazy.”“I can live with that.”
“You know, people think I’m a little crazy because of what I do for fun, but I don’t think I have anything on you.”
“See—this is the problem. You don’t even get where this is going. You can’t just ask me to come in, or kiss me, or tell me you want to know what smoking pot feels like. When I’m close to you I feel crazy, okay? When you say my name I feel crazy. It’s not…the right thing for you. I don’t think I can just…be your friend.”
“But I'm insane. You're crazy. Maybe that's why, We can just make crazy together.”
“I don't think writers need to be insane. Just crazy.”
“Oh, I still want to strangle you. But I'm insane. You're crazy. Maybe that's why. We just make crazy together.”