“I thank her for starting that rumor in my brain that I was lovable. I thank her for her one-woman cult of blood, cum, spit, and razors that called me exquisite and shunned all the winners, cheerleaders, cops, and clear-skinned Hollywood movie stars.”

“I learned in high school, if I hold up an effigy, a mask, or a lie, that mask will get all the love, not me.”

“Cool isn't for sale at the bondage store. You make it up yourself, pull it outta your asshole, your own unique brand that starts when you're born, and when you die, it's gone.”

“You and me,” she says, “we're two sides of the same coin. Gender's a box you turn inside out, tear up, and sew a gown out of.” She says most people are bored and hateful because they can't fuck with the box. They think prison's protection. They take what they're served and think they like it, but deep down they want to be something else, and they'll kill anyone sewing gowns they're afraid to wear.”

“He caught her wrist and pulled her until she was straddling him. His hand smoothed down the outside of her right thigh. "Thank you for wearing a skirt tonight. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

“Then I looked at myself in the mirror. I was proud of myself, of my entire life, of everything I have done. It was the BEST feeling... I didn't want to leave that place. I wish I never woke up.”

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “I want to feel you inside me.”“I couldn’t stop now, even if I wanted.” He kissed her, marking her with all the passion and yearning she had felt for so long. “I need this. Damn it, I need you.”And then he plunged into her with one deep stroke.”