“Tell me something boss. What do you think is the highest form of art?'Literature," he answered without hesitation. 'Painters and sculptors require elaborate supplies and tools. Dancers must have music. Musicians must have instruments. Literature needs nothing but a voice to speak it or sand to scrawl it in.”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…” “Eight days,” Søren supplied. “Eight days since my last confession. Let’s see… where to start?” “Pace yourself, Eleanor. If you forget something, I will remind you.”

“I really shouldn’t leave,” Zach said, terrified what would happen the second he found himself alone with Nora.“Come on, Zach. This party sucks and not in the good way. I’ve had pap smears more fun than this.”Zach covered a laugh with a cough.“I must admit you do have a way with words.”

“Nora— Forgive me for copyediting, but it must be said—you have raped the semicolon yet again. Stop it. It wasn’t asking for it no matter how it was dressed. If you don’t know how to use punctuation then do away with it altogether, write like Faulkner and we’ll pretend it’s on purpose.”Bite me, Easton, Nora said to herself as she corrected her sexually compromised semicolon in chapter eighteen. Seriously, bite me.”

“Tell me, have you ever had sex in the back of a Rolls Royce?" -Kingsley”

“Pourquoi?" Kingsley demanded. "Why? You take her every way you can, every chance you have. Why her and not me?"Soren hadn't replied, and for that Kingsley had been forever grateful. He knew the answer, but to hear it would have broken the one last unbroken part of his spirit.”

“Tell Dr. Jonas next time I'll do that thing he likes with the peanut butter and the cock ring.""It is without a doubt the sole reason he went to medical school.”