“I'm twenty-three years old, I'm working graveyard in the fucking mine and I been there since I was sixteen. I'll be thee until it kills me or I'm too fucking old. I ain't got no out. I don't mind that. I got Emma and I got the kids and I got the Moose until I'm too damn old for that too. But someone reached down and put lightning bolts in your legs, Saul. Someone put thunder in your wrist shot and eyes in the back of your fucking head. You were made for this game. So you gotta give this a shot for all of us who're never gonna get out of Manitouwadge.”

“I don't need more friends. You got friends and all they do is ask you to help them move. Fuck that. I'm old. I'm through moving this shit.”

“Everyone always knows what they're doing," he says abruptly, still not looking up from his hands, the little plastic pot and the old tattoo and the new white dressing on his left wrist. "You know what you're doing, you got your work and your friends and everything and miserable headfucky little teenage girly boys think you're amazing and, I don't know, you might've saved my life, who knows? I might be dead if it weren't for you and Olly but people can't keep looking after me all the time cos that ain't healthy neither, that's just as bad as people not giving a fuck at all. And, like... I'm trying to sort my head out and be a proper grown-up and get my degree and go to work and look after them kids and make sure my dad ain't kicking my sister round the house like a football but it's just so hard all the time, and I know I ain't got no right to complain cos that's just life, ain't it? Everyone's the same, least I ain't got money worries or nothing. I just don't know what I'm doing, everything's too hard. I can try and try forever but I can't be good enough for no one so what the fuck's the point?”

“I'm every woman's adventure, damn you, and I don't want to be yours. I want to be your fucking REAL. You get that? If I fuck you, I want you to belong to me. To be mine. I want you to give yourself to me-not Riptide!”

“I ain't got no spare/I ain't got no jack/I don't give a shit/I'm not going back”

“ll the merry little elves can go hang themselves My faith is as cold as can be I'm stacked high to the roof, and I'm not without proof If you don't believe me, come see.You think i'm blue I think so too In my words you'll find no guile The game's gotten old The deck's gone cold And i'm gonna have to put you down for a while The game's gotten old The deck's gone cold I'm gonna have to put you down for a while-Bob Dylan, “Huck’s Tune”