“What the hell was the matter with these people? How did they not see that of all the people on the planet, she was probably the least qualified to help them with their emotional problems? It was like asking a dog to do algebra.”

“How the hell did people do this, this emotion-and-forgiveness thing? How did they stand these feelings? She could barely handle it and she had lovely, necessary, reason-for-living drugs to smooth over the rough spots. How did people do this shit sober?”

“Fuck, she was so sick of herself-herself and her fucking emotional retardation. How did people do this shit all the time, this wanting people, caring about them? How did they stand it, how did they ever get anything done? She was sick of being lost.”

“He kissed her, slow and tender, like she mattered. Because she did, at least to him. And she thought she might even be able to believe it.”

“He leaned over her, rested his head on her shoulder, and clung to her, his tears soaking into her shirt.What the fuck was she supposed to do with this? Hug him and say something comforting? He was blackmailing her and now she was supposed to take care of him like some kind of fucking nanny or something? She didn't know how to do that. What did people do to comfort each other?”

“She doubted he'd take too kindly to her fighting with them, no matter how much he liked having her in his bed.”

“There is always a reason to live, no matter how you might feel right now. There are always people who care about you, people willing to listen and try to help you. If you think you don't have anyone, you're wrong, because you can call me, here on this show. I care and I'll listen.”