I-just want you. I want you so bad, all the time. I know I shouldn't, I know I can't, I know it's wrong... but even when you're pissing me off, when you're reminding me of pain and despair and torture-it's there, the wanting. I'm tired of fighting it. I fight so many things, all the time, every day. I don't want to fight this. Not anymore.

I feel like a fox in a henhouse full of Catholic girls.

It happened again this afternoon. Just the way it did that other night. We were talking--talking about how to protect her, actually--and then, suddenly, I looked at her and it was as if I'd found an entire universe in her eyes.

No, officer, I have no idea why I'm wearing this possum costume. I called you what? OH. My bad." -Nastasya

I held a nail in place and slammed it with the hammer. Best. Chore. Ever.

I'd once read somewhere that is takes about half as long to recover from a deep relationship as the relationship lasted.

My face is not that expressive!