“I watched, hoping she wouldn't come out too broke. It's all you can do for people sometimes, no matter how much you love them.”

“How much do you love me?"She drew in a breath and let it out. "Too much.""Too much is just enough for this man.""And do you love me?" she whispered."I have always loved you. Always. You know that.”

“All I want is for you to stand here and watch the people you love be horribly mutilated. Is that too much to ask?”

“No matter how many tears I've cried. your still not there.no matter how sweet my smile was, you still di'dn't care. No matter how much affection I show.I'm still at the dark.No matter how much I love you, you still broke my heart.”

“I don’t want people to matter to me too much. Sometimes it hurts too much to think about them. Ones you love who don’t love you, ones who are dead or hate you, ones who you think about but never get to be with. I like people but when I get too close, it fucks me up and I can’t get things done.”

“I do forget sometimes how much it means for certain men—for certain people—to be able to provide their loved ones with material comforts and protection at all times. I forget how dangerously reduced some men can feel when that basic ability has been stripped from them. I forget how much that matters to men, what it represents.”