I have an Augustus Waters fetish.

Radar threw his books into his locker and shut it. Then the din of conversation around us quieted just a bit as he turned his eyes toward the heavens and shouted, "IT IS NOT MY FAULT THAT MY PARENTS OWN THE WORLD'S LARGEST COLLECTION OF BLACK SANTAS.

It's not life or death, the labyrinth. Suffering. Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you.

I ran like a cheetah - well, like a cheetah that smoked too much.

So how’s it going?” “Okay. Glad to be home, I guess. Gus told me you were in the ICU?” “Yeah,” I said. “Sucks,” he said. “I’m a lot better now,” I said. “I’m going to Amsterdam tomorrow with Gus.” “I know. I’m pretty well up-to-date on your life, because Gus never. Talks. About. Anything. Else.

It was psychological trick called empathic listening. You say what the person is feeling so they feel understood.

I feel like, like, how you matter is defined by the things that matter to you. You matter as much as the things that matter to you.