“Wait, that’s your idea? That’s your expert advice? You’re going to tell these novelists to just keep going? You’re going to tell these honest, earnest writers: You gotta have faith? Those are George Michael lyrics, asshole. If they wanted that pep talk, they could just hang out inside a mall elevator.”

“You don’t need to spend every waking moment protecting me now. I’m supposed to be your partner, not your burden, and if that’s all I’m ever going to be toyou, then I don’t want to be here anymore. I want you to love me. I want to look forward to coming here every fall. I want winter to be my favorite season becauseI get to spend it with you. So tell me that’s going to happen, Henry. Tell me things are going to be better, that you’re not going to think of Persephone every timeyou touch me. Tell me that you’re going to love me as much as you love her, and that I won’t spend the rest of eternity paling in comparison to your memories ofmy sister.”

“You’re a big boy now; you’ll never let her go, but that’s just the kind of thing she ought to know. Tell her about it. Tell her everything you feel. Giver her every reason to accept that you’re for real.”

“If you’re going to be a writer, the first essential is just to write. Do not wait for an idea. Start writing something and the ideas will come. You have to turn the faucet on before the water starts to flow.”

“Perry, when I fuck you, you’re going to want it. And you’re going to be sober. I don’t want just your body in all of this. I want everything. Your soul too.” “That’s a pretty tall order,” I said breathlessly…“I know,” he said determinedly. “And it’s something I am willing to work for.”

“He told me to tell youyou could have everything you want and do everything you want as long as you take good care of the kids.” Hagen smiled. “He said to tell you that you’re his Don. That’s just a joke.”