“She seemed dressed in all of me, stretched across my shame.All the torment and the pain leaked through and covered me.I'd do anything to have her to myself.Just to have her for myselfNow I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when she makes me sane.She is everything to me.The unrequited dreamA song that no one sings.The unattainable, Shes a myth that I have to believe inAll I need to make it real is one more reasonI don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when she makes me sad.”

“Yet, ironically, it is her very wretchedness that makes me pity her so. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what to do!”

“What do you do?' she asks, holding out the vest.'What do you do?''What do you do?' she asks, her voice shaking. 'Don't ask me, please. Okay, Clay?''Why not?'She sits on the mattress after I get up. Muriel screams.'Because... I don't know,' she sighs.I look at her and don't feel anything and walk out with my vest.”

“Don't worry. They're all against me. But I have one advantage: they don't know what they want. I do.”

“I don't know if she's making the right choice, but it's not my choice to make. I promise to support her, whatever she decides. Because that's what sisters do.”

“I know what I don't want. I don't want to live through somebody else. To do what others expect me to do, be what they think I should be. I have to make my own choices, my own decisions. I have to control my own life, at least as much as any of us can”