“There used to be a me, but I had it surgically removed.”

“There is no me. I do not exist. There used to be a me, but I had it surgically removed”

“When you have been killed as many times as I have, you get used to it.”

“If you ask me to play myself, I will not know what to do. I do not know who or what I am.”

“A person can destroy me with two words. It can just be the way they say them, the inflection.”

“Gentlemen, you can't fight in here! This is the WAR ROOM!!!”

“I looked at the sofa. I wanted to lie down on it and close my eyes. I wanted him to just do the therapy to me, suck it out of me while I slept. I wanted a complete overhaul. I wanted new limbs. I wanted a new neck to hold up a whole new head. I wanted to be hypnotized, brainwashed, monitored, imploded, reconstituted, turned invisible. turned inside out, and cured. I wanted my organs replaced with all new organs, no scars. I wanted him to hover over me and infuse the stew of me with clear insights and shiny bits. I wanted all this change to happen while I lay semi-dozing, in a state of beauty and receptivity, quietly thrumming, on the couch. But it wasn’t a lie-down kind of a couch. It was a forward-facing, upright, massive ship of a thing – a sofa for adults, for work, for serious conversation, maybe for reading John Steinbeck or drafting torts. There had never been a free association on this sofa in its entire life.”