“Why should a deal breaker for you be an acceptable compromise for me?”

“The thing is, Iris, I've never liked the idea of compromise. In films and in stories people who love each other — really love each other — make horrendous sacrifices. They give kidneys they move across the world they die. Or become the undead because you know I like that sort of book. Basically the heroine's lover calls and she answers. Which is stupid. You know why ” Iris shook her head. “Because he's always fucking calling.”

“Because I think that sometimes, when you really love somebody, you don't ask them for the kind of compromise that is actually a sacrifice. The kind where one person gives up everything they have, everything they are, just so they can be with the other person. And you certainly don't expect that shit. You don't expect someone to prove their love. To love you that little bit more than you love them.”

“Oh gods, Jane, the answer to all those questions is you. You turn me on; you’re what I want; you make me growl.”

“Come hell or high water, I will separate you from your man-business. I don't care how, or if you kill me. If it means me, dead, holding your junk, I'll take your junk. Got that?”

“Did you just wipe your nose on me?" he asked, finally.”

“I don't know whether it's because I don't love him, or because I can't love him for demanding something like that from me. Or because he doesn't know me for squat. But I couldn't give him my whole life. And that's what he wanted from me. He wanted everything, and I wanted him to love me for what I had already offered.”