“You know, I might miss some of your witticisms when you’re gone, but one thing I won’t miss? Your overwhelming sense of melodrama and despair. It’s too much even for me.”

“You haven’t missed me for one fucking minute. You have never for one single second in your entire pathetic fucking life missed me. You might have missed fucking with my head, and you might have missed the satisfaction you so clearly got from demolishing me, but those are your emotions you’re missing, not mine. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“It’s all right to change your mind about a situation, even if it’s in mid-course without fear that you’re missing something. You know, if you’re not there, it’s not happening for you at that time. All you’re doing is changing direction.”

“The saddest thing is there won’t be anyone to miss us when we’re gone. No family, no friends, no one waiting at home.”“It’s better that way,” I said. “It’ll be easier for me, knowing my death doesn’t add to anyone’s pain.”“If you can’t give anyone pain, then you can’t give them joy either.”

“You’ve missed a lot of things. But mostly I think you’ve missed several opportunities to leave. Let me assist you to the door so that you won’t miss this next one.”

“If I can’t be personal, I don’t want to argue,” said his hostess categorically. “I may be missing your points, but you’re much too busy dodging mine.”