Kris Lucas: Why can't I do the things I want to do? There's so much I know I'm capable of that I never actually do. Why is that?
Arlen Faber: The trick is to realize that you're always doing what you want to do... always. Nobody's making you do anything. Once you get that, you see that you're free and that life is really just a series of choices. Nothing happens to you. You choose.

...Nietzsche with his theory of eternal recurrence. He said that the life we live, we're gonna live over and over again the exact same way as eternity. Great. This means I'll have to sit through the Ice Capades again. It's not worth it.

"We spend most of our time talking about nothing, but I just want to let you know that all of our nothings have meant so much more to me than so many somethings."

"So, if I asked you about art, you'd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michel Angelo, you know a lot about him, life's work, political aspirations, him and the Pope, sexual orientation, the whole works, right? But I bet you can't tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You've never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. Seen that...? If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You're a tough kid. I ask you about war, you'd probably throw Shakespeare at me, right? 'Once more into the breach, dear friends.' But you've never been near one. You've never held your best friend's head in your lap, and watched him gasp his last breath looking to you for help.

I ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable...known someone that could level you with her eyes. Feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you… who could rescue you from the depths of Hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, and to have that love for her be there forever. Through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months, holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the terms visiting hours don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you; I don't see an intelligent, confident man. I see a cocky, scared sh*tless kid. But you're a genius, Will. No one denies that, no one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine and ripped my [f'n] life apart. You're an orphan, right? Do you think I'd know the first thing about how hard your life has been, how you feel, who you are because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally I don't give a sh*t about that, because, you know what, I can't learn anything from you I can't read in some f*cking book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. And I'm fascinated. I'm in. But you don't want to do that, do you sport? You're terrified of what you might say. Your move chief."
~Sean

Joe Fox: Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora's box of all the secret, hateful parts - your arrogance, your spite, your condescension - has sprung open? Someone upsets you and instead of smiling and walking away, you zing them? "Hello, it's Mr Nasty." I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about.

Kathleen Kelly: No, I know exactly what you mean, and I'm completely jealous. What happens to me when I'm provoked is that I get tongue-tied and my mind goes blank. Then I spend all night tossing and turning trying to figure out what I should have said. What should I have said, for example, to a bottom dweller who recently belittled my existence? Nothing. Even now, days later, I can't figure it out.

Joe Fox: Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could pass all my zingers to you? And then I would never behave badly and you could behave badly all the time, and we'd both be happy. But then, on the other hand, I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, remorse inevitably follows.

"Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up: if a boy punches you he likes you, never try to trim your own bangs, and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. every movie we see, every story we're told implores us to wait for it: the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. but sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. how to tell the ones who want us from the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. and maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. maybe the happy ending is just moving on. or maybe the happy ending is this: knowing after all the unreturned phone calls and broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment... you never gave up hope. "