“I'm checking my pockets for spare words and sentences but I'm finding none, not an adverb, not a preposition or even a dangling participle because there doesn't exist a single response to such an outlandish request.”

“I wonder at my incapacity for easy banter, smooth conversation, empty words to fill awkward moments. I don't have a closet filled with umms and ellipses ready to insert at the beginnings and ends of sentences. I don't know how to be a verb, an adverb, any kind of modifier. I'm a noun through and through.”

“I wish I could put his words in my pocket just to touch them once in a while and remind myself that they exist.”

“I like when he tells me that he likes the way I feel because it goes against what I've heard my entire life and I wish I could put his words in my pocket just to touch them once in a while and remind myself that they exist.”

“we write every day, we fight every day, we think and scheme and dream a little dream every day. manuscripts pile up in the kitchen sink, run-on sentences dangle around our necks. we plant purple prose in our gardens and snip the adverbs only to thread them in our hair. we write with no guarantees, no certainties, no promises of what might come and we do it anyway. this is who we are.”

“You can go to hell!""Just because I'm going to hell doesn't mean you'll ever deserve her.”

“I'm not blind, okay? On a purely physical level? Yeah, you're pretty sexy-- and that suit you have to wear all the time doesn't hurt. But even if you didn't have that 'I kill you if I touch you' thing going on, you are definitely not my type. And more importantly, I'm not some perverted asshole," he says. "I take my job seriously. I get real shit done in this world, and I like to think people respect me for it.”