“Well . . ." St. Vincent walked slowly with her to the crowd of dancers. "I'm a wicked man who can, on occasion, be just a bit nice. And I've been searching for a nice girl who can, on occasion, be just a bit wicked.”
“If I just open this window a bit, that man might put his fingerup your bum. Wouldn't that be nice for you?”
“What living occasion can,Be just to the absent?”
“ One things there's no getting by,I've been a wicked girl,Says I...But, if I can't be sorry I might as well be glad ! ”
“It was one of those problematic occasions with long silences, sporadic coughs, and people saying isolated things like, "Well, isn't this nice.”
“I'm not a cop. I'm just a tattoo artist. I'm just a guy who used to be in love with a girl. I'm just a fool who's been fooled too many times before. I'm just a man who's finally getting his revenge.”