“No, you're not like me. You're better. A better person, a better goddamn everything. Now, eat your breakfast. And if you open your mouth to say you aren't everything I know you are, I'll stuff that bagel in it. Plain. Without cream cheese.Healthy food--the ultimate threat.”

“You're the little spoon, aren't you?”

“You're so very good at that. The temper, the scowl. You must drink shots of testosterone in your morning coffee.”

“Pick up your clothes. I am not your maid. How do I know this? A maid cannot kill you with a tube sock. I can. ”

“Spartacus," I called, "how's it hanging?" Probably not too well. Once you're dead, had your organs removed, and are resurrected as an undead mummified cat, your testicles probably looked like old raisins that had rolled under the couch. Raisins didn't tend to...hang.”

“Every inner touch, every one of its fingerprints on my brain, burned like acid. It shredded the walls of my soul like tissue paper, it clawed its way into my very center, I couldn’t tell anymore where it began and I ended. It poured into me like a river into the sea, mixing, melding, until we were one. One. For better or worse. Until death do us part.”

“Home is where the heart is or where you bury the ones you want to eat later.”