“You know, the only thing worse than a self-righteous virgin is a self-righteous fake virgin.”

“Why do they call it losing your virginity, anyway? It's Not Like I don't know where I left it." "You'd be surprised how many people don't.”

“Was I wearing my 'I'm done with my virginity, please get rid of it for me' T-shirt?”

“You don't know me. Don't ever think you know me. The only things you know about me are the things you made me do, and that illustrates your character, not mine.”

“It was an addiction. A pointless, self-destructive addiction. But really, is there any other kind?”

“Not that I don't appreciate the rescue," Holt said. "But I'm forced to ask, in the interest of self-preservation ... exactly how well armed are you right now?”

“If I love you more than you love me, I'm as good as dead. Yet I can't make myself take it back. I can't just walk away from you, because every time you pass by me without smiling, without touching my hand, or at least making eye contact, it feels like I'm dying inside. And I'm pretty sure that hurts worse than whatever Marc would do to me. Whatever your dad would do. Hell, Faythe, I'm pretty sure that never touching you again would hurt worse than the nastiest death Calvin could think up for me.”