“I'm not a little girl." And he'd never spoken to me like that. Not ever. "I don't know what your problem is, but unless you pay the rent on my house or wear the black suspenders at the Cinemark, you don't get to tell me what to do.”

“Don't tell me what I'm doing; I don't want to know.”

“So now I'm thinking about it. I'm imagining sitting down with my parents and actually saying, "I'm gay." And you know what? It makes me a little mad. I mean, straight guys don't have to sit their parents down and tell them they like girls.”

“I don't know what shit you're working though but I know its there. I know you'd rather not even acknowledge it and definitely don't want me to be a part of the process. I don't care. Princess, this is happening between you and me.""What, exactly, do you mean by 'this'? You fucking me?" I snapped..." Yeah. Me fucking you. In your bed, on your couch, in my bed and anywhere else I can think of. I'm gonna do you on your back, on your knees and you're gonna ride me. And when I've exhausted you and you don't have those fucking shields up, I'm gonna make you talk to me and tell me what this shit is about and then, maybe, I can help you with it.”

“How old are you?" said the girl. "What are you doing here? Do you live here? What's your name?" "I don't know," said Bod. "You don't know your name?" said the girl. "Course you do. Everybody knows their own name. Fibber." "I know my name," said Bod. "And I know what I'm doing here. But I don't know the other things you said.”

“Don't you know me by now, Angel? I never do what I'm meant for.”