“I’m calling because that’s what women expect men to do. You expect us to call at least once a day, proving we’re capable of thinking of nothing but you when we’re not. We’re thinking of work.”

“Shit is fucked up when it comes to appearances and women. We’re expected to be hot - but if we are, we’re vain and stupid. And if we’re not hot we’re useless. Kind of hard to get around. But we’re not stupid. We know that we’re doing damage to ourselves - not only to our bodies but also to our mental well-being. And it’s not worth it.”

“You did really great up there,” I tell her, because I don’t know how to say what I really want to: that the people you love can surprise you every day. That maybe who we are isn’t so much about what we do, but rather what we’re capable of when we least expect it.”

“Because at the end of the day that’s what we’re all trying to do: fit in, one way or another, desperately trying to pretend we’re all the same.”

“I’m not stealing it. We’re stranded. This is called borrowing.” “This is called you’re crazy.”

“We’re so rarely called on to be Christians, but when we are, we’ve got men like Atticus to go for us.”