“you can't make homes out of human beingssomeone should have already told you that”

“you are a horse running aloneand he tries to tame youcompares you to an impossible highwayto a burning housesays you are blinding himthat he could never leave youforget youwant anything but youyou dizzy him, you are unbearableevery woman before or after youis doused in your nameyou fill his mouthhis teeth ache with memory of tastehis body just a long shadow seeking yoursbut you are always too intensefrightening in the way you want himunashamed and sacrificialhe tells you that no man can live up to the one wholives in your headand you tried to change didn't you?closed your mouth moretried to be softerprettierless volatile, less awakebut even when sleeping you could feelhim travelling away from you in his dreamsso what did you want to do lovesplit his head open?you can't make homes out of human beingssomeone should have already told you thatand if he wants to leavethen let him leaveyou are terrifyingand strange and beautifulsomething not everyone knows how to love.”

“Have you talked to Lindsay about me?""Not really. But the night of that charity thing, when I was driving her home, she told me I should wait an appropriate amount of time out of respect for Paul Wheeler and then ask you out.""She did?""Yeah. But I told her I was in no rush because I'd already fucked you, so--""WHAT?"He looked across at her and grinned. "Just kidding.”

“...if you are one tardy away from missing out on a big competition, you should probably make your coffee at home.”

“A lie was something you told because you were mean or a coward. A story was something you made up out of something that might have happened. Only you didn't tell it like it was, you told it like you thought it should have been.”

“She might have wallowed a long while in the pleasures of resistance and the challenge of discovering how unrestrained she could be. But she would have been at home. At home you flip out a little and that's it. You do not have the pleasure of the unadulterated pleasure. You don't get to the point where you flip out a little so many times that you finally decide it's such a great, great kick, why not flip out a lot? At home there is no opportunity to douse yourself in this squalor. At home you can't live where the disorder is. At home you can't live where nothing is reined in. At home there is the tremendous discrepancy between the way she imagines the world to be and the way the world is for her. Well, no longer is there that dissonance to disturb her equilibrium.”