“I grew up having to piss in a bucket ’cos there was no indoor shitter, and now I have these computerised Japanese super-loo things that have heated seats and wash and blow-dry your arse at the touch of a button. Give it a couple of years and I’ll have a bog with a robot arm that pulls out my turds, so I don’t have to strain.”

“I like to fantasize about how far I’ll have come in a year. A year from now, I’ll be 12 months further than where I am today. And the most impressive part is I don’t really have to work hard for it. I just have to keep waking up.”

“Don’t touch me, Nora. (Ewan)Why? (Nora)If you touch me, I’ll kiss you, and if I kiss you right now, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to pull back and be satisfied with just the taste of your lips. (Ewan)”

“I have had to give up so much, so many selves and lives already. I have grown up and out of the rubble of my old lives, of things and people I have cared for....”

“No one washes their hands after they piss unless they’re in a public place. If I’m at the airport, or a restaurant, and someone else is there, I’ll soap up for the sake of civilization, but it’s only for show, I don’t really care if I have ultraviolet traces of urine or feces on my hands. But, if I see someone walk oudda the men’s without soaping up I’ll think he’s deranged, borderline psychotic. At least pretend that washing your hands matters. You know, for the sake of civilization.”

“I couldn’t have pulled it off if you hadn’t have pulled out all those years ago. So thanks, dad.”