“No," Nathan grumbled. "Like, not piss on him, just all around him." Stuart raised an eyebrow. "Nath, you need to chill. We're in a bar, a busy bar. We can't stop people talking to each other." "I know but-""Look, don't worry about it," Stuart insisted. "Try not to turn into a bunny boiler just yet.”

“You know, we worry about the Bomb, a thought interceded, and yet just look around: there are millions of people out there, just like you and me, with their thumb on the self-destruct button.”

“I know it makes sense for me and him to just break up now and just live our seperate lives and not have to worry about missing each other all the time. But when I think about that, I get sick. Physically sick. Like I seriously throw up. I need to be with him, even if I can’t, like, be with him.”

“Here's to new beginnings," Stuart says and raises his bourbon.I nod, sort of wanting to tell him that all beginnings are new.”

“I know he's dead! Don't you think I know that? I can still like him, though, can't I? Just because somebody's dead, you don't just stop liking them, for God's sake — especially if they were about a thousand times nicer than the people you know that're alive and all.”

“... I'm the fortieth-ugliest man in this bar. But so what! So what! What if someday she lets me kiss each one of her freckles again? She has like a million. But every one of them means something to me. Isn't this how people used to fall in love? I know we're living in Rubenstein's America, like you keep saying. But doesn't that just make us even more responsible for each other's fates? I mean, what if Eunice and I just said no to all this. To this bar. To this FACing. The two of us. What if we just went home and read books to each other?”