“You, yes, you, linger inside my heartThe same you who stopped us before we could start.”

“Crocodile LiesI confess, yes, our Fall was all my faultIf you kissed my eyes, your lips would taste saltBut you think my regret is a lie, and the tears I cryAre the crocodile kind.The sweat on your upper lip starts to boilWhite hot with anger, still convinced I'm your foilYou keep fighting me, though my eyes are freeFrom crocodile lies.You, yes, you, linger inside my heartThe same you who stopped us before we could startI didn't want to leave, but you began to believeYour own crocodile lies.The only person stopping you is yourself,You won't accept that I want no one else,So until you do, I'll let someone else have youEvery day I live the lie,But not the crocodile kind--Marcus Flutie”

“I could not stop talking because now I had started my story, it wanted to be finished. We cannot choose where to start and stop. Our stories are the tellers of us. ”

“Being In LoveMeans hard questions. Will I? Won't I? Should I? Could I?Yes? No? You?Me? There is no mewithout you.Is there a you without me?And if were truly one.how will I breathewhen circomstance pries us apart?You are my oxygen.my substance,the blood inside my veins.When wetouch, you are my skin.hold all my joy inside of you.When you go, I wither.”

“She started walking again. "Are you saying you didn't even want to be with her? Not even just a little?"He stopped. "How could I want to be with her when I want to be with you? I told you that before this whole thing started.”

“Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony—Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?”