“I’ve never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it’s much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that’s probably just because it’s you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes.”

“It’s killing me, baby,” he says, his voice much more calm and quiet. “It’s killing me because I don’t want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you. And I’m not ready to tell you I’m in love with you, because I’m not. Not yet. But whatever this is I’m feeling—it’s so much more than just like. It’s so much more. And for the past few weeks I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure out why there isn’t some other word to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn’t a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe this point between liking you and loving you, but I need that word. I need it because I need you to hear me say it.”

“<...> I’venever believed there is any animal more dangerous than a human being. I never will. It’s the intelligence. It’s the mind that makes it so.”

“It’s not just a damn game. Whatever it is that I feel for you is more real than anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“Oh, I say I have an ocelot and it’s a joke, but I’ve had so many news programs in this country say, 'So what’s it like, having an ocelot?” And I’ll say, “It’s marvelous just to see them run free. When feeding time comes and they’re mewling, it just warms your heart.' People will really believe anything. You may have noticed this. It’s not just me. Look around.”

“If I have to beat you up to keep you safe, that’s just what I’ll do. It’s this kind of regard for others that makes me believe I’d be a good politician.”