“Because from what I've seen of marriages and relationships, there aren't any rules. You deal with what comes, like anything else in life. There's no template. No freaking outline. And that's what makes relationships interesting, right? The element of surprise.”

“So he likes being mean to you," she said. "And you like that he likes being mean to you.""And I like being mean to him, too, don't forget.""Of course not. Pleasure from meaness. There's a name for it: sadomasochism.""Thanks a lot." I said. "That's just what I need. A mental picture of Todd Harding laced up in a black leather bodysuit with a whip in one hand and his wang in the other.”

“Not that anyone really knows what one is. And yet, people still find each other. It’s a freaking miracle, when you think about it.”

“I couldn't exactly blame Jane Austen for being a romantic. What the hell else was there to do back then for fun?”

“That's how you know if a friend is the best kind. If time and miles get between you, yet when you come back together, it's like you were never apart.”

“So I've made up with Mar. I've made up with Señor Shitslacks. I'd even forged a shaky truce with Amanda. The only person I still needed to deal with was Johnny Mercer. Oh yeah, I had to kill Gabe Walker, too, but there was plenty of time for that.”

“He said, “So . . . do you like music?” It was a pretty stupid question. I mean, who doesn’t like music? Okay, maybe some puritanical zealot out in Hicksville. But really. It was kind of like asking, “Do you like food?” “Isn’t oxygen great?” “Have you got skin? I do.” I knew what he meant, though.”