“Good is a-dime-a-dozen. I mean perfect, quintessentially unique, unforgettable; a moment you would gladly stay in for the rest of your life, only the essence of it to sustain you.”

“Bah! You are so not the romantic you led me to believe. For that, I’m going to plague you from the next life. Every time it rains, that’ll be me, trying to knock some spirituality into that thick head of yours.”

“Welcome to the real world, Scott. The sweet things in life don’t seem so sweet when you have to roll up your sleeves and fix the greasy machines that make them, do they?”

“You can get over a broken heart or settle the score and move on. Guilt though, you let that bitch in, you’re wedded for life.”

“Dig all you want. I have nothing for you. But dig all you want. I want you to.”

“If you let it, the shit that actually went down could put years on you but it wasn't fatal. The gut you busted to keep all the other potential shit from ever happening would always kill you though, with slow certainty. ‘Death from a thousand Coulds’, Stencek called it.”

“In New Orleans, absurdity is like the humidity. It permeates everything, until you stop noticing it. It connects everything and everyone in its oddness and the climate of convention has no place within it. That’s how it goes there. You live, breath, and feel the life that finds you. Thinking’s not required. Thinking can come later, when the weather breaks and you need some saner shelter.”