“I wish I knew how to change my patterns--all of them. But it's like the blood in my finger. I screw up and there it is, just the stuff I'm made of, making a mess again.”

“I got you a present.""Did you?""It's a book of poetry--romancy stuff. I thought, 'How schmaltzy is that,' so it seemed like the thing. Then I screwed up and left it in my desk at work”

“I just looked at the pattern of my life, decided I didn't like it, and changed.”

“Why not? It's natural selection. Just like nature." I wrinkled my nose. "Boudas love this argument, because it gives them an excuse to do all the wrong things. 'I'm sorry I screwed your sister and got my penis stuck in your German shepherd. It's in my nature. I just couldn't help myself.”

“[I]t just makes me tired even thinking about it. It reminds me of that feeling I had before I left. Like my lungs were made of lead. Like I can't even think about starting to care about anything. Like I either wish that they were all dead, or I was, because I can't stand the pull of all that history between us. That's before I even pick up the phone. I'm so tired I never want to wake up again. But I've figured out now that it was never them that made me feel that way. It was just me, all along.”

“I wanted to say I'm sorry. It doesn't make it right, it just... makes it what it is."The bell rings then, and I turn around in my seat, thinking I agree with her, that it is just what it is. And not just the situation with Sebastian. But still wish I knew how I could make it right. How I could make everything right.”