“I'm trying to quit,” he said. “Just so you know.” He lit the cigarette and inhaled so long and so deep it sounded like air being let out of a tire.”

“You try and act so tough, you think you're so damn hopeless and godless and faithless, but you don't fool me. People without hope aren't tormented by the world the way you are. People without hope don't give a shit. but I see it in you, in the way you look at things, even in the way you look at me sometimes, like I'm the coolest fucking guy in the universe, and I know it's in there. Reverence. Belief. Something. You have a lot more faith than you own up to. You just don't want to be let down. But I'm not going to let you down again. Not if I can help it.”

“Don't do this to me, Eliza. Please. I need you.” I looked at Paul. He was crying. “You don't need me,” I said, wondering whether or not I believed it. He gripped my face and kissed me. But it was a hard, painful kiss. A severe and bitter kiss. A kiss that seemed so black, so final, it was like death. “Happy fucking Birthday.”

“The music defied classification. If I had been writing areview of the show, I would have labeled it progressive,guitar-driven rock ’n’ roll. But the guitars made sounds guitarsdidn’t always make. Symphonic sounds. Sacred sounds.The music dug in so deep you didn’t hear it so much as feelit, reminding me of a dream I used to have when I was a kid,where I would be standing on a street corner, I would jumpinto the air, flap my arms, and soar up into the sky.That’s the only way I could describe the music.It was the sonic equivalent of flight.”

“The housekeeper had been there that afternoon. I could always tell because the sheets on the bed would be tucked in so tight, trying to get them out was like wrestling an alligator.”

“I'm in love with her,” I announced at double speed, hoping that saying it quickly might lessen the weight of its impact. He looked at me with doom in his eyes and goes, “Jesus Christ, Paul.” I said, “I mean it. Like deep crazy soul love.” Michael almost choked. “Deep WHAT?” I laid it all out for him: Eliza believes in me, she moves me, and she's moved BY me. She makes me happy, she makes me sad, she makes me try harder, she makes me laugh, and she makes me feel like I can fly. Isn't that the goddamn definition of love?”

“He called me an asshole and said, “I'll bury you!” like some comic book villain. I wanted to fucking scream my head off—I'm not your toy! Your puppet! Your whore! I'm a human goddamn being and I expect to be treated as such! Instead I told him I didn't want to be buried, I want to be cremated. And I want my ashes stored in a disco ball he can hang over his desk.”