“I imagine you working on me as an algebra problem, reducing me to fractions, crossing out common denominators, until there's nothing left on the page but a line that says x = whatever it is that is wrong with me.”

“Hear me when I say I believe nothings gonna change destiny. Whatevers meant to be will work out perfectly.”

“I look at the hundreds of algebra problems facing me in the next three days.And here I thought I’d figured out the equation to my happiness.”

“In the end there's never a sanctuary. You run until there's nowhere left to run to, and then you fight, and then you die, and then it's over. That's how the world works, and if there's any way to change that, I hope someone's eventually planning to let me know.”

“Oh God, what's wrong with me? Why does nothing ever work out?”

“this is why we call people exes, I guess - because the paths that cross in the middle end up separating at the end. it's too easy to see an X as a cross-out. it's not, because there's no way to cross out something like that. the X is a diagram of two paths.”