“What happened to your stammer?" "I suppose I must feel comfortable with you. I tend to stammer less with certain people." "No one's ever told me that I'm a comfortable sort. I'm sure I don't like it. I'll have to do something diabolical soon to correct your impression.”

“TYRONE[Stares at him -- impressed.]Yes, there's the makings of a poet in you all right.[Then protesting uneasily]But that's morbid craziness about not being wanted and loving death.EDMUND[Sardonically]The makings of a poet. No, I'm afraid I'm like the guy who is always panhandling for a smoke. He hasn't even got the makings. He's got only the habit. I couldn't touch what I tried to tell you just now. I just stammered. That's the best I'll ever do, I mean, if I live. Well, it will be faithful realism, at least. Stammering is the native eloquence of us fog people.”

“I don't allow people of your sort to stand in my way. That's what you're leaving out of account. I'm having Christine because it's my right. Do you understand that? If I'm after something, I don't care what I do to make sure that I get it. That's the only law I abide by; it's the only was to get things in this world...With me you just haven't a hope in hell.”

“I like who I am now. Other people may not. I'm comfortable. I feel freer now. I don't want growing older to matter to me.”

“I don’t know, Sage. You threw yourself in the line of pepper spray for me. You must like me just a little bit.” “I— I figured it’d be a shame to ruin your pretty face,” I stammered.”

“How do you know what a rock star feels like, Ada May? Have you ever been a rock star? I don't think so,' Beth Ann said.'I was just guessing.''Well, not me. I'm not saying I feel like something when I don't have any idea what that feels like and neither do you.”