“And finallythe glass that contains and spills this stuff continuallywhile the drinker hunches before it, while the bartender gathersup empties, gives back the drinker's own face. Who knows what it looks like;who cares whether or not it was young once, or ever lovely,who gives a shit about some drunk rising to stagger towardthe bathroom, some man or woman or even lostangel who recklessly threw it all over—heaven, the ether,the celestial works—and said, Fuck it, I want to be human?”

“Don't get me started on the term literary fiction. I think the idea is that there are some books who know how to order from a wine list and some who don't. I like wine, but I prefer the company of beer drinkers any day.”

“Because I'm a man who works, who knows what a human being is like inside, who knows that every human being has his worth, and who wants the world to be governed by work and not by opinions about work.”

“Who gives a shit what everyone thinks?” he said. I see now that this has long been some sort of mantra for him. I've never been that free. I want to be, and sometimes I pretend to be, but I’m not. I’m forever chained to giving a shit about what someone thinks.”

“Some are young people who don't know who they are, what they can be or even want to be. They are afraid, but they don't know of what. They are angry, but they don't know at whom. They are rejected and they don't know why. All they want is to be somebody. ”

“My young sisters, we have such hope for you. We have such great expectations for you. Don't settle for less than what the Lord wants you to be...Give me a young woman who loves home and family, who reads and ponders the scriptures daily, who has a burning testimony of the Book of Mormon... Give me a young woman who is virtuous and who has maintained her personal purity, who will not settle for less than a temple marriage, and I will give you a young woman who will perform miracles for the Lord now and throughout eternity.”